


What Happens In Vegas...

by kesdax



Series: Vegas [1]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-18
Updated: 2014-10-24
Packaged: 2018-02-17 22:09:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 32,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2324915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kesdax/pseuds/kesdax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>...Stays in Vegas. Or at least Shaw wishes it did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

>   
> 

Sameen Shaw wasn’t prone to hangovers. And if she _did_ end up with one, it was usually nothing more than a mildly sore head and a dry mouth, easily rectified by several litres of water and some aspirin. But today… Today felt like all of those non-hangovers were hitting her all at once. 

At least it felt like someone was hitting her over the head. Repeatedly. And without mercy.

Shaw groaned and sat up, immediately wishing she hadn’t, the unfamiliar room spinning wildly around her. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply for a few moments, only daring to open them again once she was she sure she wouldn’t throw up if she did so.

It didn’t take her long to realise that she was naked in the unfamiliar hotel room bed. And that she was decidedly _not_ alone.

Her first thought was, _Shit!_ Her second was, _What the hell did we do last night?_

And she did _not_ like the way that her mind was drawing a complete and utter blank on that last one. She never blacked out. Ever.

The room may have been unfamiliar, but the person next to her certainly wasn’t, and Shaw groaned when she saw who it was. So much for never going there again.

Mercifully, or maybe because she had been in a similar state to Shaw last night, Root was still completely out of it. Shaw bit her lip and carefully extracted herself from the bed sheets, searching the floor for her clothes and determinedly ignoring the way her stomach lurched violently as she bent over.

This didn’t feel like a normal hangover. But whatever it was, it made Shaw want to get out of there fast. She pulled her clothes on quickly, not bothering with her shoes, clutching them tightly in her hand as she got out of the room, barely making a sound. Her own room was only down the corridor, barely a minute walk, and Shaw was hoping to make it there without running into any other guests.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t that lucky, and she had to bite her lip to stop herself from flinching when Reese suddenly appeared in front of her.

He looked about as rough as she felt, his eyes bloodshot and his hair sticking up wildly.

“You look like shit,” he said.

Shaw glared at him and it only deepened when he grinned at her, taking some of the hard edge off his face.

“What?” she snapped.

Reese didn’t say anything though, just handed her over a slip of paper that she hadn’t noticed he had been holding. She snatched it from him and glanced at it. It took her eyes a moment to focus through the hangover, but when they did, she wasn’t sure she believed them.

Her name. On a Las Vegas, Nevada marriage certificate. Her name and…

“Shit.”

Reese grinned wider.

“No way is this legit,” Shaw growled, struggling to remember _anything_ from the night before.

“Oh, it’s legit alright,” said Reese. “I was witness.” He pointed to his signature. Shaw batted his hand away and that was when she spotted the ring on her finger, glinting merrily away.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” she said and immediately turned on her heel, storming back the way she had come, Reese following closely behind her. She wasn’t sure, but she assumed Reese still had the grin on his face as she slammed her fist against the hotel room door.

Shaw was just about to open her mouth, a hot demand heavy on her lips, when the door eventually opened a crack. Root peered out, looking pale, like she had just thrown up, and anxiously twisting the ring on her finger. It distinctly matched the one on Shaw’s, and Shaw found her eyes drawn to it, despite her unwillingness to actually believe that it was true.

“This isn’t fucking happening…” Shaw muttered.

“Oh, it is,”  Reese said gleefully. “Mrs and-”

“Finish that sentence and I’ll put these heels where the sun don't shine.”

Reese, wisely, kept his mouth shut.

“There is no way this is real,” Shaw said again in disbelief. “There’s no way I’d ever get… _married_ ,” she said as if the word was something vile. “No matter how drunk I was. Especially not to _you,_ ” she added, the words out of her mouth before she could stop them.

Root flinched, an odd look flashing across her face before it quickly disappeared.

Shaw cleared her throat awkwardly. She could feel Reese giving her a look, but she decided to ignore him. And that left her with only Root to look at and that just made things worse. They had been here before (not the drunken marriage part, _thank God_ , but the awkward morning after part) and it seemed, no matter how many times Shaw told herself it would be the last, no matter how many times she _told_ Root it would be the last, Shaw still seemed to end up back in her bed (or in the back of her car or up against the nearest wall. And then there was also that one time in the stock room where “Sam” had worked.)

But it had been easier then, when she was hiding in plain sight as Sam. It was easier to pretend that it wasn’t a thing, that it meant nothing. Just two people trying to hold onto something. It seemed like the only time they could act normal, could be _themselves_ , was around each other.

At least that was the excuse Shaw had always told herself.

Now she wasn’t really sure what her excuse was. She wasn’t sure she even had one.

“Why don’t we ask Finch what happened?” Reese suggested into the awkward silence.

Shaw nodded, if only for something to do and followed him in the direction of Finch’s hotel room, Root close behind her. The ring felt heavy on her finger and she itched to take it off. But something stopped her from doing so, like it would feel wrong somehow if she did.

There was no answer when Reese knocked on the door and he shot Shaw an apprehensive look before breaking in with a credit card.

When he opened the door, it revealed the room inside; furniture toppled over, the curtains torn off their pole, empty bottles lying about the floor… It looked like someone had one hell of a party last night and it was most definitely unlikely to have been Finch. Shaw wondered if this was the source of the pounding in her head, but once again, as hard as she tried, she couldn’t remember anything from the night before.

“Maybe he went down to reception,” Reese said hopefully. Shaw shrugged her shoulders, somehow doubting it. She was starting to get a bad feeling about this whole thing; the weird hangover, her unwitting nuptials and now this. She watched as Reece disappeared downstairs, longer than necessary and she knew it was just an excuse to avoid looking at Root.

But Root wasn’t about to let her get away with it.

“You can’t pretend this isn’t happening,” Root said and when Shaw looked up, she was still twisting the ring on her finger nervously.

“Watch me,” Shaw snapped, holding the marriage licence up to the light to examine it more closely. She ignored the snort Root let out.

“It’s not going to have a plastic strip running through it, Shaw,” she said disdainfully. “It’s not money.”

“Whatever,” Shaw muttered, but she dropped her hand back down to her side all the same.

Root stared at her for a moment before she looked away, shaking her head. Not sure if she was supposed to say something (and even if she _was,_ she had no idea what it would even be) Shaw opted for keeping her mouth shut. But her silence just seemed to make things worse and she watched silently as Root rubbed at her ear and bit down on her bottom lip. Shaw tried not to think about all the times _she_ had bit down on that lip.

Swallowing thickly, Shaw forced herself to look away and clutched the licence tighter in her hand, wishing Reese would hurry up.

After what seemed liked forever, and when the silence felt like it was going to overwhelm her, Reese reappeared. If anything, the worry had only deepened on his face.

“There’s no sign of him,” he said.

Shaw wasn’t all that surprised by that. She sat down heavily on the only upright piece of the furniture in the room - Finch’s bed, which she doubted had been slept in last night.

“You think someone grabbed him?” Shaw asked.

Reese shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Shaw didn’t miss the way his eyes seemed to drift to Root ever so briefly. Neither did Root, apparently, and she shot him a disdainful look.

“I don’t know where he is either,” she snapped.

Reese shrugged defensively and kicked some of the rubbish out of the way so he could pull a chair upright. He sat down on it, rubbing at his face tiredly.

Shaw looked from him and towards Root. She looked angry (and Shaw couldn’t tell if it was at her or at Reese’s accusation), but there was an underlining sheen to her features as well, like she was barely holding it together. She looked rough. They all did.

“I think we were drugged,” Shaw said quietly.

Reese looked at her sharply. Then he nodded, like he had been suspecting it too.

“Does anyone remember anything from last night?”

Shaw shook her head. The last thing she remembered was Finch buying them all dinner and a round of drinks. It was his way of celebrating their first successful number since the whole thing with Samaritan ended. And boy was it easier to save numbers without having to constantly worry that they were about to blow their cover and have Decima agents on their asses. Shaw was just glad that it was over and that all of them had more or less made it out of it in one piece.

“I remember dinner,” said Root, rubbing at her ear again. “But nothing after that. Just waking up…”

She trailed off, glancing at Shaw wearily before looking away.

Shaw cleared her throat. “Yeah… same.”

“Me too,” said Reese, seemingly oblivious to the awkward atmosphere that seemed to have enveloped the room. “We should retrace our steps.”

“How are we supposed to do that?” Shaw said sceptically. “We can’t remember where we’ve been.”

“We don’t need to remember,” said Reese, standing up and moving towards her. He snatched the marriage licence from her hand. “Cupid’s Wedding Chapel,” said Reese, reading off the paper. He grinned widely at Shaw’s disgusted look. “Ready to re-live the Big Day?”

 


	2. Chapter 2

_Three days ago…_

“You’d think a reclusive billionaire could afford a private jet,” Shaw grumbled.

“At least we’re flying first class,” Root murmured in her ear.

Shaw turned to glare at her through the gap in the seats. “I didn’t sign up for the human foghorn,” she complained as the guy next to her continued the relentless snoring he had started as soon as he had sat down in the seat next to her.

“You could always sit on my lap,” Root said coyly.

Shaw ignored her.

The guy beside her let out an outrageously loud snort as he continued to snore. Shaw sighed in disgust and elbowed him casually in the ribs. He immediately sat up straighter and looked about wildly.

“Sorry, mind if I…” Shaw gestured for him to let her out and she hurried past him and headed to the bathroom.

There was a queue. Of course there was a fucking queue.

Shaw hummed in annoyance and thought about shoving the people in front out of the way. But she figured that would only piss of the air hostess (and she was the person currently hoarding the only booze on this thing) and Finch (who was already extremely nervous about the guns they had snuck on board) so she thought it was probably best to remain on her best behaviour.

Eventually - _finally_ \- the queue went down and Shaw slipped inside the tiny cubicle. It was a relief to be alone, despite the close confinement. Next time they had to travel two thousand miles, they were so commissioning the jet for themselves.

The water was cold when Shaw splashed some on her face, leaving her skin tingling pleasantly. She glanced in the mirror, watching the water drip from her skin and pondered at how, after months of hiding and pretending, her reflection looked like her again, not like Sam the make-up girl.

As far as Shaw was concerned, Sam was dead. And good riddance.

There’s was a scraping noise to Shaw’s left and she turned, eyes narrowing as the door was slid open and Root slipped inside.

“Uh,” said Shaw, “these aren’t really designed for more than one person.”

Root smirked widely, locking the door behind her and stepping closer, forcing Shaw’s body up against the sink.

“I’m sure we’ll manage,” she said wickedly, bringing her lips dangerously close to Shaw’s.

“What are you doing?” Shaw asked hoarsely as Root gripped her hips, fingernails scraping against the exposed flesh between the top of her pants and her shirt.

“Haven’t you ever wanted to join the mile high club?”

“Not really,” said Shaw gruffly. She gripped Root’s wrists and tried to push her away. Forgetting about where they were, Shaw only succeeded in pressing Root up against the far wall. It made Root grin brightly, eliciting a flash of desire through her eyes.

“I told you we weren’t doing this again,” said Shaw.

But Root ignored her and leaned in closer again, grazing her teeth gently against Shaw’s pulse point before biting down on her neck. “You keep saying that.”

Shaw tried to suppress a groan. And failed. “Yeah, well, this time I mean it.”

“You keep saying that too,” Root added. When she began unbuttoning Shaw’s fly, Shaw didn’t even try to protest. Her brain had taken on that fuzzy quality that it always seemed to have whenever she was around Root these days.

“This time,” Shaw began, bringing her lips against Root’s and biting down hard on her bottom lip, “I _definitely_ mean it.”

“Whatever you say, Sameen.”

Shaw was not happy about the undignified moan that escaped her lips as Root slipped two fingers inside of her. Arousal sparked with annoyance at the smug smirk dancing across Root’s face urged Shaw to fight back, and she grabbed the front of Root’s pants roughly, tugging them down. Root gasped, losing her rhythm for a moment. Shaw kissed her hard and bucked her hips, urging her into moving again and hating herself for being so weak.

As if sensing what she was thinking, Root broke the kiss and grinned, bringing her lips against Shaw’s ear. “Stop trying to fight it.”

“Shut up,” Shaw snapped, moving her fingers deeper and satisfied when it wiped the smile from Root’s face and sent her eyes fluttering.

What happened next was a battle of wills, neither of them wanting to come first, fingers fighting frantically. Shaw angrily gripped Root’s hair, tugging on it hard as she pulled her in to deepen the kiss. Root moaned into her mouth and she didn’t know if it was that or the thumb that she brushed against Root’s clit that finally sent her over the edge. There wasn’t time to bask in triumph. As Root continued to ride out her orgasm, her fingers never once lost their pace and Shaw found herself coming hard and she had to grip the sink behind her tightly to keep herself upright.

“Fuck,” said Shaw, feeling the sweat pouring from her face as she struggled to control her breathing. It was uncomfortably warm in the small room and Shaw desperately wanted some air, wanted some _space._ But Root wouldn’t move, apparently too dazed to realise she had already made Shaw come, her fingers still working fast as she sent another orgasm burning through Shaw’s body.

Shaw bit down hard on Root’s shoulder, wishing she was meeting flesh and not the fabric of Root’s shirt. She cursed at her weakness again and shoved Root from her. Root stepped back from her with a grin, leaning back against the wall and licking her glistening fingers clean. Shaw swallowed thickly and looked away, washing her hands quickly and splashing welcoming cold water on her face once again. It didn’t make her look any more presentable.

She tried to ignore Root’s frantic breathing and the heat radiating from her, but it was impossible in the small confines of the aeroplane bathroom.

“Definitely the last time,” Shaw insisted firmly, watching Root’s reflection in the mirror. Something indistinguishable flashed across her face. It was gone before Shaw could figure out what it meant. Whatever it was, Shaw ignored it and pushed past Root to exit the bathroom. She stopped up short at the queue that had formed and tried not to cringe when she saw Finch in amongst the knowing looks that were sent her way.

“Miss Shaw?” he said and there was a touch of concern to his voice. “Miss Groves,” he added, a little more startled.

Shaw glanced behind her to find Root smirking wickedly and chose to ignore the wink Root flashed at her.

Next time, they were _stealing_ the damn jet.

*

“You have _got_ to be kidding me,” Shaw said, staring disgustedly up at the wedding chapel in front of her. “No way I’d even step foot in that place.”

“Well,” said Reese, who had an equally disgusted face, “evidently you did.”

“Can we just get this over with?” Root said tightly, pushing past them both to get inside the chapel.

Shaw watched her go, the way she had her arms folded defensively in front of her and felt a flash of something she couldn’t describe. It settled within her unpleasantly and she glanced towards Reese, hoping he hadn’t noticed.

“Looks like you’re sleeping on the couch tonight,” he smirked.

“Shut up,” Shaw retorted and stomped after Root.

“Look on the bright side,” said Reese, following along behind her. “It could be worse.”

“How could it possibly get any worse?”

The inside of the chapel was even more sickening than the outside. Bright, cheerful flowers were dotted about on every available space, making love heart shaped murals on the walls.

“Okay, it’s worse,” Shaw muttered. “I think I might throw up.”

Reese grunted in agreement and they both followed Root to a small reception area.

“Hey!” exclaimed a guy dressed in a bright blue, frilly tux. “My favourite couple.”

The guy swept up both Root and Shaw into a bone crunching hug. Shaw gritted her teeth and automatically reached for her gun. Root’s fingers lightly brushing against her wrist stilled her though and she only had to suffer a few more moments longer before the guy let them both go.

“I know what you’re here for,” the guy said and disappeared into the back before either of them could say anything. They glanced at each other awkwardly for a moment and Shaw could practically feel the amusement radiating from Reese behind them. It made her want to reach for her gun again.

A few moments later, the guy reappeared. He thrust a disk in a plastic case into Shaw’s hand and beamed at them. Shaw glanced at it for a moment, staring at the two names written on it in permanent marker. Something burned harsh within her that she chose to ignore, and she looked back up at the guy in the blue tux, biting back her irritation at his constant chirpiness.

“Look,” Shaw began tightly, “we’re looking for a friend of ours. Wears glasses, walks with a bit of a limp. Was he here last night?”

The guy shook his head. “No, just you three.”

“Well there goes our only lead,” Shaw grumbled to no one in particular. Not that she had been expecting it to be that easy, but they were left with nothing else to go on and none of them had any clue as to what had happened to Finch. Or them.

“Not exactly,” said Reese, stepping closer and prying the disk out of her hand. “This might fill in some of the blanks.”

Shaw scowled and felt Root stiffen beside her.

“I don’t think-” Shaw began, but Reese ignored her.

“You got something we can watch this on?” Reese asked. The guy nodded and gestured for them to follow him into the back room. Shaw glanced at Root, but she got the distinct impression that she was being deliberately ignored and in the end she didn’t have any real choice but to follow Reese through.

It didn’t take the man in the blue tux long to set the video up and Shaw felt herself becoming more and more uncomfortable, felt acutely aware of Root standing behind her and Reese to her left. It felt like all eyes were on her as she watched the video recording of the ceremony, the guy in the blue tux (who was wearing all white in the video) officiating.

“I dunno, Shaw,” said Reese, “looks like you’re pretty into it.”

Turning, Shaw glared at him and not because he was enjoying himself way too much at her expense. But because there was a hint of truth to his words. She _did_ look like she was into it, no matter how intoxicated she - well, all of them - seemed, she hadn’t been making any protests.

“That can’t be legal,” Shaw snapped, turning to the officiator. “Look how drunk we were.”

The officiator shrugged. “You were all of sound mind at the time.”

“How is _that_ ,” Shaw gestured wildly at the screen, “of sound mind?”

She could feel her anger tightening within in her, making her really want to punch someone in the face. Her hand gripped her gun without her realising and she caught Reese straightening slightly out of the corner of her eye, as if he were readying himself to intervene if he had to.

“Shaw,” Root scolded.

Shaw ignored her. “Undo it,” she demanded hotly.

The officiator swallowed tightly and took a step backwards. “I-I can’t. You’d need a judge to grant you a divorce. Or an annulment, if you haven’t consummated the marriage.”

Shaw glanced at Root awkwardly. “Does it count if you don’t remember it?”

The officiator nodded hurriedly and realised his mistake almost immediately when Shaw clenched her teeth tightly together. Reese chose that moment to step between them and asked the officiator if he knew where they had gone to afterwards.

Unsure if it was the overwhelming smell of brightly coloured flowers or something else, Shaw felt the sudden urge to retreat for some air, and she abandoned the others wordlessly as she headed out the back door and into an alleyway.

She had forgotten what city she was in, that it was in the middle of the desert, stiflingly hot and unrelenting at this time of year, no breeze or fresh air to speak of. Shaw closed her eyes and leaned back against the wall, willing her mind to remember _something_. To give her some sort of clue as to how they had ended up here last night, how she had seemed so _willing_. But her mind didn’t seem to want to give her answers and she opened her eyes again.

They landed on something glistening in the sunlight and it took Shaw a moment to realise what it was. A shiny red motorbike, a Harley Davidson to be precise. Shaw found herself eyeing it appreciatively. Something sparked in her mind, something familiar and she took a step closer to the bike to examine it closely. It had the name of a casino stickered onto the side, and even that seemed familiar to Shaw. No matter how hard she tried to remember though, the memories just slipped through her mind, lost to the depths of her subconscious. Her instincts were telling her another thing though. That they had ridden that bike here last night, her and Root.

“Reese checked with the cab company,” said Root quietly. Shaw tried not to flinch and straightened, wondering how long Root had been standing there watching her. “Looks like we went straight from here back to the hotel.”

Shaw said nothing and once again found her eyes wandering to the wedding ring on Root’s finger. Root followed her gaze and clenched her fist tightly, causing the sunlight to reflect off the ring, only emphasizing it more. Shaw looked away.

“Here,” said Root, handing Shaw the disk with the wedding ceremony on it. “You can decide what to do with it.”

Shaw accepted it without a word, stared at it for a moment before snapping it in two. Root raised an eyebrow at her.

“That’s not going to make it go away,” she said tiredly, staring at the broken pieces in Shaw’s hands.

“I know,” Shaw mumbled and tossed them aside. She wanted to say something. Something that would wipe the despondent look from Root’s face. But, as usual, she had no clue as to what they could be. Instead she cleared her throat and said, “I think I know where we were before here.”

Root glanced at her in surprise. There was a touch of relief there too at the change of subject. “Oh?”

Shaw gestured to the bike behind her, glad that the look, although probably not gone completely, was at least hidden for now.

“Do you think we won it?” Root asked, trailing a finger across the sticker depicting the name of the casino.

“No,” Shaw said, watching Root carefully as she straightened and started to rub at her ear again. Shaw frowned.

“Then what?” Root asked, seeming to realise what she was doing with her hand, and dropped it quickly to her side.

“I think we stole it.”


	3. Chapter 3

_Two and a half days ago..._

“We are _not_ sharing a room,” Shaw said defiantly, nostrils flaring at the grin on Root’s face. It remained there for a few moments before Root finally let it slide and rolled her eyes.

“Relax,” she sighed, handing Shaw a key card. “Harold got us four rooms.”

Shaw snatched it from her and glanced at the room number.

“Don’t worry,” said Root and now there was a harder edge to her voice, “they aren’t adjoining rooms either.”

“I wasn’t worried,” Shaw said sullenly, following her to the bank of elevators. Root looked at her like she could see through the lie that it was. Shaw tried to pretend she wasn’t bothered by how easily Root could read her these days. Not that she _was_ worried per say. More like cautious of the fact that whenever she and Root ended up alone in a room together lately, it always resulted in less clothing and both of them leaving with an array of pleasantly stinging scratches and bruises.

Shaking her head of dangerous thoughts, Shaw followed Root into the elevator, suppressing the sigh of relief when she realised it wasn’t empty. At least they wouldn’t be alone for now. Root shot her a smirk like she knew what she was thinking and was enjoying every minute of watching her squirm. Shaw chose to ignore it, riding the elevator in silence and counting down the minutes until this stupid mission would be over.

Shaw said nothing as she snatched up her bag and headed for her room without a word. She could _feel_ Root following her and knew that, although they didn’t have adjoining rooms, they were at least on the same floor. It didn’t make her feel any better and part of her was tempted to stall so that Root wouldn’t see which room she went into.

It was stupid, she knew, but the longer this went on… the more her resolve seemed to fail her.

And the more Root seemed to enjoy it.

At her expense. Always at her fucking expense.

And Shaw, no matter how hard she tried, just kept going back for more, like Root was some drug and she was the desperate addict.

That was another dangerous thought that Shaw didn’t like to think about. The reasons _why_ she kept going back eluding her the longer it went on.

In the end, Shaw didn’t have to worry about Root figuring out where her hotel room was located, because she reached hers first and disappeared inside without a word. Shaw stared after her and the shut door, something odd and heavy sitting in the pit of her stomach. Shaw ignored it, just like she always did whenever it decided to make its presence known (which was always around Root, an irritating voice in her head reminded her) and headed inside her own room.

The room was pretty basic - Finch clearly wanted them to keep a low profile - but that sort of thing had never bothered Shaw, and she dumped her bag on the bed, opening it swiftly and arming herself with several weapons that she had hidden within its depths. Shaw still had no idea what to expect from their latest number and in her mind, it was always best to be over prepared.

Barely a minute had passed before there was a knock at the door. Shaw scowled. Expecting Root, she had a burning comment on her tongue and had to force it back when she opened the door to reveal Reese instead.

“What?” she snapped.

Reese raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment on her brusqueness.

“Finch says our number’s flight doesn’t get in for another hour.”

Shaw opened her mouth to say something but caught Root hovering by Reese’s shoulder. She left it hanging open for a moment when she noticed Root had ditched her usual leather jacket and, clear for anyone to see, her bra by the looks of things.

The thin white t-shirt wasn’t helping.

She was fucking doing it on purpose. And she was managing it with a straight face.

_Asshole._

“Anyway,” said Reese, glancing between them both and looking distinctly uncomfortable, “Finch says do what you want, but meet him in room 401 in an hour.”

“Why?” asked Shaw. “What are you going to be doing?”

“Thought I’d check out the casino.”

“Since when do you gamble?” Shaw asked sceptically. She was trying her best to ignore Root, but it was becoming more and more difficult.

“I don’t,” Reese shrugged. “But Fusco asked me to put a line of Black Jack on for him.”

He glanced at Root then.

“What?” she said, her eyes narrowing. “I’m not asking the Machine to help you cheat.”

“Worth a shot,” Reese muttered and Shaw nodded in agreement as Root continued to glare at them both. “Anyway, want to join me?” Reese asked.

“No, I’m going for a shower,” Shaw said and immediately wished she hadn’t. The wicked grin on Root’s face was hard to block out.

Reese didn’t protest and he quickly left, leaving Root to continue grinning at her in the hallway.

Shaw slammed the door in her face.

She didn’t venture very far into the room before she stopped in her tracks. And she hated herself for even considering it. The plane was bad enough. She had given in way too easily and too quickly. Root had a way of getting under her skin better than anyone. Which was one of the many reasons why she had to put a stop to… whatever the hell this was.

But…

They were in Vegas, right?

And whatever happens in Vegas… stays in Vegas. _Right?_

“Fuck it,” Shaw snapped and turned on her heel, throwing the door back open. She was not at all surprised to find Root still there, leaning casually against the far wall with a bright smirk on her face.

“Shut up,” Shaw said and grabbed her by the front of her shirt to pull her inside. “This is the _last_ time.”

“Uh-huh,” said Root sceptically and followed her into the bathroom.

Shaw made quick work of shedding her weapons and lining them up neatly by the sink. Then she pulled the shirt over her head and smirked when she caught Root staring.

_Yeah, two could play at that game_ , she thought and tossed the shirt in Root’s face.

It didn’t take her long to get the rest of her clothes off, abandoning them in a heap on the floor as she turned the shower on and hopped in. Freezing cold water hit her skin, but Shaw didn’t care. She was still feeling smug about the dazed look on Root’s face and the fact that she hadn’t moved an inch, Shaw’s shirt still hanging loosely in her hand.

“You gonna stand there all day?” Shaw called out over the sound of rushing water. “We’ve only got an hour, you know.”

She didn’t bother listening for a reply, instead ducked her head under the water, suppressing a shiver as her entire body felt the cold. She turned the heat up and soaked her hair. Then she shivered for another reason when Root’s arm slipped around her waist from behind and she pressed her entire body up against Shaw’s back.

“Why are you still dressed?” Shaw asked, feeling the fabric of Root’s now wet clothes scrape against her bare skin.

“To annoy you,” said Root sweetly. “Why else?”

Well, at least she was being honest about it, Shaw thought, but clenched her jaw all the same.

Root’s fingers trailed lazy circles on her belly, deliberately refusing to go lower as Root brought her lips up against Shaw’s neck.

“Now your clothes are soaked, dumbass,” Shaw grumbled and tried to ignore the spark that Root’s touch sent through her.

“I’ll just borrow yours then,” Root said.

“No, you fucking won’t,” Shaw snapped and groaned when Root’s teeth sunk into her neck. It was her weak spot and Root fucking knew it.

Shaw was too busy relishing in the sting that followed to notice Root shift, her hand dipping lower as her fingers started a slow exploration.

Root sucked gently on the still stinging bite as she slipped a finger inside Shaw, eliciting another groan. “I love it when you’re all wet.”

Shaw rolled her eyes and elbowed Root away, whipping around so that she could press her up against the slick shower wall, hands fisting around the clothes Root was still wearing. She felt rather like she was at a disadvantage. Not that the soaking wet white t-shirt left much to the imagination. But she could feel her control slipping - and part of her wondered quietly if she’d had any control in this to begin with - the longer she stood there, naked and dripping wet, with Root smirking down at her, still fully dressed. It made Shaw want to rip the shirt from her chest. She felt the control ebbing away from her again and told herself she was allowing Root to suck on her neck, right at the spot where her teeth had left their mark, as she pushed Shaw roughly backwards…

Her back hit the wall and Shaw struggled to find something to grip onto as Root began to trail kisses down her body. Struggling to think how she could possibly gain any power back now, Shaw adamantly refused to allow anymore sound to escape her lips, not even when Root continued to bite and nip, teeth encircling around Shaw’s nipple and tugging on it hard.

The only response Shaw allowed was gripping her fist tightly in Root’s hair, but even that felt like she was giving Root more ammunition and she didn’t try to stop her as Root slid her tongue down further, hovering right where Shaw needed friction the most.

Shaw tried to remain still, she really did, but her hips seemed to buck forwards involuntary. Root grinned up at her.

“Just get on with it,” Shaw snapped.

“Patience, Sameen,” said Root and bit the inside of Shaw’s thigh.

Shaw hissed and hoped the sound of the running water had masked it before Root had heard. She doubted it though and closed her eyes to the smug grin Root directed at her, smacking the back of her head lightly against the wall.

This really had to stop.

_Never again,_ Shaw told herself for what felt like the millionth time and bit her lip as Root’s tongue _finally_ slid inside of her.

Root took her time, circling Shaw’s clit and never quite placing the pressure there that she needed.

“May I reminded you,” said Shaw, annoyed by how laboured her breathing sounded, “that Reese said we only had an hour.”

The only response she received was Root tightening her grip on Shaw’s hips, fingernails digging into the skin pleasantly.

“And I was actually planning on having a shower at some point too,” Shaw muttered.

Root paused and looked up at her. “You’re in the shower.”

“I meant washing,” Shaw said, still feeling grimy from the plane ride.

Root grinned. “Want me to scrub your back?”

“No,” Shaw said sullenly and grabbed Root by the hair, pulling her to her feet and kissing her hard. She could taste herself on Root’s mouth and it only reminded her of the need she still had burning within her. As if sensing it, Root grinned into her mouth and trailed her nails roughly down Shaw’s back, gripping her ass tightly.

Shaw pulled away roughly. “You gonna finish this or what?”

Root looked like she was going to refuse her demand for a moment, sending a spark of irritation through Shaw. But then she slid slowly down Shaw’s body again, her nails digging in deep enough to draw blood. Then her tongue was where it should be and, _this time_ , Shaw let out the groan she had been trying to suppress. She didn’t care all that much that, in a sense, Root was now winning whatever game they were playing. Not when her tongue was doing that circling thing that Shaw adamantly refused to admit that she liked.

Shaw’s hand struggled to find something to hold onto as she felt her knees weakening. She was pretty sure Root’s firm grip was the only thing keeping her upright and, once again, it felt like she didn’t have any control in this. That thought alone made her stiffen and as if knowing what she was thinking, Root sucked on her clit hard, sending a pulsing throb throughout Shaw’s entire body.

“Root…”

But Root ignored her and let go of her hips. Shaw caught her wrist, stopping whatever she was about to do next.

“Stop.”

Root looked up at her, confusion and something else etched on her features.

“I can’t keep doing this,” Shaw mumbled and closed her eyes, trying to shut out the look but it seemed burned into her mind no matter how hard she tried to forget it.

Root let go of her and she felt cold all of a sudden, despite the warm water still trailing down her body. Shaw kept her eyes shut until her breathing was under control and when she opened them again, Root was gone.

Shaw smacked the back of her head against the wall again, this time hard enough to produce a dull throb. But she didn’t care all that much and decided to do what she had come in here to do in the first place, quickly washing herself and ignoring the arousal that was still burning for her attention.

When Shaw finally switched off the shower and stepped out, Root was nowhere in sight. And neither were Shaw’s clothes.Shaw swore under her breath and stared at the pile of wet clothes where her own should have been.

The cursing didn’t stop as she towel dried herself and she walked back into the main room, half expecting the rest of her clothes to be missing from her bag as well. Mercifully (and luckily for Root’s health) they were still there and Shaw quickly got dressed, conscious of her hour almost being up.

When she made it to Finch’s hotel room, she was the last to arrive and he frowned at her from behind a laptop and gestured for her to take the only available seat. Shaw chose to remain standing, telling herself it had nothing to do with the fact that Root was sitting in the chair next to it.

Reese leaned over and muttered in her ear, “Isn’t that your shirt?” His eyes were on Root and there was a slight smirk sitting at the corner of his mouth.

“Shut up,” Shaw mumbled and forced herself to listen to what Finch was saying.

*

The sounds of coins clinking and slot machine’s buzzing filled Shaw’s ears. The place looked like any old casino, nothing about it was sparking at her memory and she frowned in annoyance. Her memories of the previous night were still shrouded in darkness, refusing to come out.

“Anything?” Shaw asked.

“Nothing,” Reese muttered, glancing around the room. “You sure we were here?”

Shaw shrugged. “This was where the bike came from.”

Reese opened his mouth to say something but shut it almost immediately as a woman in the casino’s burgundy uniform approached them. There was a hard look on her face as she stepped up to Reese, her hand coming up and slapping him firmly across the face before she stormed away.

Shaw bit her lip to fight back the amusement that threatened as Reese cleared his throat awkwardly.

“I’m gonna…” he said and disappeared into the crowd before Shaw could say anything.

“What do you think that was about?” Shaw asked. Turning to look at Root, she frowned when she saw Root rubbing at her ear again and narrowed her eyes. “What?” said Shaw, finally getting Root’s attention.

“What?” said Root and, dropping her hand quickly, it looked like she was attempting to appear innocent but failing miserably.

“Okay,” said Shaw suspiciously, “what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” said Root, the pitch of her voice slightly higher, which did nothing to aid her cause. Neither did the hand that automatically went back to rubbing at her ear again.

“That’s it,” Shaw snapped, grabbing Root’s wrist and dragging her into the ladies room. The sole other occupant was washing her hands and Shaw barked at her to get out, glaring until the door swung shut behind her. Then she turned her attention onto Root and, without giving her time to protest, twisted her head around forcefully so she could get a good look.

Behind Root’s ear was raw and ragged, black stitches sticking out harshly against reddened skin. Shaw prodded her fingers against the wound, ignoring Root’s wince, and let out a sigh of relief when she felt the cochlear implant still resting beneath the skin.

“The Machine?” Shaw asked.

“She hasn’t said anything…” Root’s voice had softened and to Shaw it sounded like she was struggling to hold it together.

“Well, it’s infected,” Shaw said, dropping her hand. “So stop touching it,” she added when Root’s hand went to scratch at it again. Root dropped her hand sheepishly.

“Do you remember what happened?” Shaw asked.

Root shook her head.

“Those are professional,” said Shaw, referring to the stitches. “So either I did them or…”

But she doubted it had been her, not considering the state she had been in, judging by how she looked in that video.

“Or what?” Root asked.

“Or we took a trip to the ER last night,” said Shaw. At least they had another lead now if Reese found nothing.

Root avoided her gaze and it made Shaw wonder if she wasn’t being entirely truthfully about not knowing what had happened last night. It made her think about the ring sitting heavy on her finger and how much Root had to do with putting it there. And despite seemingly appearing to be into it on the video, Shaw still pondered the possibility that she had been tricked into it somehow.

And now apparently the Machine was out of commission, so they couldn’t even ask Her what had happened. Something about that thought sent a chill down Shaw’s back.

“You think someone was trying to cut off our direct line to the Machine?” Shaw asked, watching Root carefully, determined to spot any lies or half-truths that were about to come out of her mouth.

Root shook her head, eyes still deliberately avoiding Shaw’s.

“Then what?” Shaw snapped, feeling like she was pulling teeth and getting nowhere. Root bit her lip, worrying away at it until the skin cracked, a thin trail of blood forming until Root licked it away. Shaw gripped her forearm tightly and forced Root to look at her. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Shaw felt like shaking her until she got an answer, until all Root’s secrets spilled out. But instead she just tightened her grip, hard enough so that bruises would form and watched as water sprang up in Root’s eyes. The pain seemed to snap her out of whatever dark thoughts she was stuck in and she blinked at Shaw as if seeing her for the first time.

“Root -”

“I think I did it to myself,” Root said distantly.

“What?” said Shaw dumbly. “Why?”

But before Root could answer her - _if_ she was even going to answer her - Shaw’s cell rang and she bit out a curse before answering it.

It was Reese. “Where are you? I’ve got nothing. Well… just an emptier wallet thanks to that bike you stole.”

Shaw stared at Root for a moment, but she was looking away from her again, downwards at the hand that still held onto her tightly. Shaw thought for a moment that it was the ring on her finger that had caught Root’s attention, but when she looked she found her thumb trailing lazy back and forth on Root’s arm without her even realising.

Shaw let go immediately and cleared her throat before turning her attention back to Reese on the phone. “I think I might have another lead.”


	4. Chapter 4

_A day and a half ago..._

As Reese and Finch took the number up ahead to safety, Shaw was left behind to hold off the gunfire that had broken out. She was vastly outnumbered. But, out in the open, firing with her favourite USP compact, the adrenaline rushing through her veins due to the thrill and not the fear of Samaritan finding out her cover… Shaw was in her element.

And enjoying herself immensely.

So much so, that she was annoyed by the worry that crept in when she realised they _still_ hadn’t seen nor heard from Root in… well, it had to be about six hours by now. Shaw knew that she was off doing something for the Machine. But whatever it was, Shaw wasn’t privy to it.

But it wasn’t like she was worried about _Root._ Definitely not. She was just running out of ammo and could really do with a supply run.

Yeah… that was totally it.

Shaw fired off one more round before ducking behind an old abandoned car to reload. It was her last magazine and she counted at least six more guys. If she was careful, she should have just enough bullets to take them all out with ease.

Unfortunately… these guys were pros. And good at dodging bullets.

“There’s three more coming around from the south side,” said a voice in her ear.

Shaw almost flinched.

Almost.

“Where the hell have you been?” she snapped, ducking down again and turning her attention to the south. She couldn’t see anyone yet, but she heeded Root’s warning all the same.

“Had to set up somewhere safe for our number,” Root explained, crouching down beside Shaw and pulling her own gun out. “These guys that are after him own half the casinos in town.”

“And you couldn’t have mentioned that before because...” Shaw said absently and rolled her eyes when she caught Root smirking at her.

“Awh,” said Root simperingly. “Were you worried about me?”

“No,” Shaw said sullenly. “Do you have a spare magazine?”

Root shook her head and stood up suddenly, firing off five rounds without even looking. Shaw knew they had hit their mark, the Machine flawlessly guiding Root’s hand as usual. She wondered how well Root would fare on her own, but decided it was probably best not to think about that right now.

Shaw finally spotted movement from the south and readied her gun, waiting for a clear shot and stood up slightly when she thought she had it. But Root’s gun went off first, her bullet going straight for a kneecap.

“I had that,” Shaw said, glowering.

Root smirked. “I bet you did.”

Ignoring her, Shaw turned her attention back to the gunfire now directed their way from the north. Root’s little routine seemed to have drawn some attention and Shaw mentally counted the number of bullets she had left. Not enough. Especially not if Root was running low too.

Peeking her head as far as she dared over the car, Shaw tried to get a good look at what they were up against. She knew it was a bit pointless, considering who was beside her, with her direct line to the Machine who could tell her exactly where to shoot. Root seemed to be thinking the same thing and grabbed Shaw by the back of her hoodie, dragging her back down. Shaw scowled and shrugged her off, straightening her clothes with one hand. She was expecting to find Root smirking at her with her usual smug and irritating look. But instead, Root was biting her lip and looking more serious than Shaw had ever seen her, even including the worst times during their fight with Samaritan, when it looked like they could never win.

“We need to talk,” said Root over the blaze of gunfire.

Shaw frowned, unsure if she had heard her correctly.

“About us,” Root added.

“You want to talk about this _now_?” Shaw said, looking at her incredulously as bullets continued to whizz over their heads.

Root shrugged. “Seems like as good a time as any,” she said vaguely. But Shaw thought she knew exactly why Root was bringing this up now, when they were cornered and in the middle of a gunfight. Because Shaw couldn’t ignore her or walk away from it. Not like she usually did whenever they got close enough to actually talking about… well, _anything._ Root usually played up the flirting and innuendos and Shaw pretended to be more grumpy than usual and they managed to avoid discussing anything serious.

And it worked.

Most of the time.

Apart from now, apparently.

“I don’t do relationships,” Shaw snapped, watching as Root stood up to fire off a few more rounds. She caught the eye roll though, and clenched her jaw in annoyance.

“I’m pretty sure that when you fuck the same person for more than year,” said Root, crouching down on the ground beside Shaw again, “and only that person, it’s considered a relationship.”

Shaw didn’t say anything for a moment, listening to the impact of bullets on the other side of the car. These guys either had really lousy aims, or they were playing with them before killing them. Not that Shaw was worried about that happening anytime soon. They still had enough bullets. Just.

“I’m not saying we need to define what this is or anything,” Root continued. “But I think you need to decide what it is that you want.”

“Right now,” said Shaw tightly, standing up to take aim again, “I kind of want to kill these guys.”

She didn’t though. Aiming for the kneecaps was a force of habit these days and she managed to hit one of the guys but not the other.

Two bullets left.

"How much ammo have you got?" Shaw asked, keenly aware that she was ignoring the subject at hand.

Root aimed her gun just beyond Shaw’s left ear, firing off two shots rapidly. Shaw could _feel_ them as they flew past, burning hot, and knew it would be stinging later.

"I'm out," Root declared. "Think you can shoot the last guy without missing."

Scowling, Shaw took careful aim, but Root grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her back down.

"I mean it," said Root seriously. "This guy's carrying three grenades and a submachine gun. You miss, we're screwed."

“Since when do you doubt my ability to shoot someone?”

“I don’t,” said Root with a smirk. “I would just rather we didn’t both die before I get an answer.”

“I thought you were done with the morbid thing?” Shaw grumbled. It wasn’t the first time Root had predicted their deaths. She had gotten pretty good at reminding them all that they weren’t invincible, that Samaritan was smarter and more powerful than all of them put together.

Root shrugged and Shaw sighed when she continued to stare at Shaw expectantly.

“Look,” said Shaw, breathing out heavily, “I already told you. I’m not doing this anymore.”

“And _yet_ ,” said Root slowly and, to Shaw, it sounded more condescending than anything else, “you keep coming back.”

Shaw shook her head, not entirely sure how to respond to that. It was true, after all.

“You can’t have it both ways, Shaw,” Root continued.

Shaw bit her lip and said nothing.

“And I can’t keep doing this either,” Root added, more quietly this time. There was a vulnerability to her voice that Shaw had never heard before and it echoed in her ears unpleasantly. It left Shaw feeling numb all over, enough that she didn’t protest when Root slipped the gun out of her hand and stood up, swiftly taking out their last bad guy before wordlessly handing the gun back.

Shaw took it and still said nothing, and found she couldn’t look Root in the eye.

“I’m not suggesting you decide _now_ ,” Root said, forcing some lightness into her voice that Shaw didn’t buy. “Take some time. Think about it.”

“Root-” said Shaw hoarsely.

But Root was already moving past her. “We should get to the safe house before Harold and John start to worry.”

*

“You sure you’ve cleaned it properly this time?” Shaw asked scathingly.

The ER doctor shot her a disdainful look, curling his lip slightly as he peeled the latex gloves off his hands.

“You’ll have to forgive my wife,” Root said, grinning mischievously when the ER doc wasn’t looking. “She gets tetchy over subpar medical treatment.”

Shaw glowered, more at the term than anything. It was her own fault really. She had wanted to be in here (to get Root on her own and question her more on what had happened to her ear, _not_ because she was worried or anything) and the nurse had been adamant that it was family only. And they were, _technically_ , married after all... Even if the thought still made her cringe.

Shooting them both one last dark look, the ER doctor disappeared out of the room. The smirk hadn’t left Root’s face and Shaw knew that she was just deflecting, trying to delay the conversation that they both knew was coming.

Shaw folded her arms and stared Root down. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”

The smile slid from Root’s face. “I don’t-”

“Bullshit,” Shaw snapped. “What makes you think you tried to cut the implant out yourself?”

Root looked away and Shaw felt like hitting something. The closer they got to figuring out what the hell happened last night, the more questions it seemed to leave them with. And if Root knew something… something that could indicate what the hell had happened to Finch, then Shaw was going to get it out of her one way or the other.

Shaw opened her mouth to say something but clamped it shut when Reese walked in, looking more concerned than ever.

“What?” Shaw asked him.

“According to one of the nurses who was working last night,” Reese began, “it was just us three. Walked in off the street with Root covered in blood and, I quote, ‘drunk as an alcoholic sent loose in a brewery.’”

“So no sign of Finch?” said Shaw.

“Doesn’t look like it,” said Reese, frowning with worry again. “I’m gonna call Fusco, see if he can help. Especially now that we’ve lost our direct line to the Machine,” he added, shooting Root a sidelong glance, like he wasn’t quite sure if he should bring it up.

“No way,” Shaw said angrily. “If the Machine wanted to talk to Root, then it would have found another way.”

Shaw wasn’t expecting the two looks of surprise that she received and she felt a little awkward for it.

“I’m just saying,” Shaw added nonchalantly, “it’s a little weird.”

Because the Machine _always_ talked to Root. Even during the worst times with Samaritan, the Machine found a way to get in contact. Most of the time it was cryptic and frustrating, but the Machine _had_ a plan. A plan that Root never gave up on, and Shaw found it hard to believe that the Machine could abandon her so easily now. Something else was going on.

She waited for Reese to step out and make his phone call before rounding on Root again, giving her a pointed look.

“Well?” Shaw said when she still received nothing but silence.

Root sighed.

“The only reason that I would-” Root began hesitantly.

Shaw said nothing, afraid that she would say the wrong thing and shut Root down for good. Root bit her lip and shook her head, making Shaw wonder if she was ever going to get an answer or if Root was just going to wave it off as if it were nothing. Like she did with so many things.

Until recently, that was. Recently… recently it felt like all Root did was bring up the hard stuff, not letting it slide or fall away into nothing. Shaw wasn’t sure what had started it. Almost losing to Samaritan or… something else.

Shaw waited her out, showing more patience than she actually felt and she wished Root would hurry up before Reese got back.

“The only reason that I would try to… _remove_ my implant,” Root said, looking at her feet, “is if the Machine asked me to do something I didn’t like.”

“Like what?” Shaw asked and shook her head in annoyance when Root didn’t answer her. She could feel the anger bubbling inside of her, the exam room getting stuffy and she moved to go find Reese, wanting to come up with some sort of game plan and figure out this whole thing sooner rather than later. And in a way that didn’t involve them chasing their tails in circles that didn’t seem to be ending any time soon.

Shaw hated it, the not knowing what the hell was going on and what had happened to them. So soon after Samaritan, it didn’t feel right. Shaw didn’t like it.

“Shaw,” said Root, grabbing her wrist before she could leave. “I-”

But Shaw wrenched her arm out of Root’s grip and glared at her. It was too much like all those times during the past year when Root had been evasive, spouting half-truths and her usual zealot faith in the Machine that seemed to get in the way of… well, that was a thought Shaw didn’t like to think about. But it worried her sometimes, that unwavering faith. It made her wonder just what, exactly, Root was capable of.

Root stared at her sadly for a moment, fiddling with the ring on her finger again, making Shaw want to snatch it from her and throw it out the nearest window. And she was more than grateful when Reese popped back into the room, even if he did look more miserable than ever.

“Well?” said Shaw.

“Fusco’s got nothing,” Reese admitted. “And judging from the loud cackling, he knows more than he let on about what happened last night.”

Shaw raised an eyebrow at that, unable to contain the quirk of her lips that moved in amusement. “Maybe he knows why that black jack dealer slapped you.”

Reese glared. “Maybe he knows about your recent nuptials.”

The smirk slipped from Shaw’s face and she figured it was probably best just to keep her mouth shut in future.

“Or maybe,” said Root harshly, “he just knows how incompetent you two are when you’re drunk.”

Neither of them said anything to that and Reese shot Shaw a look as if to say it was all her fault. Shaw wasn’t sure exactly _what_ washer fault, but she wasn’t surprised when Root stormed past them both and out of the exam room.

“What?” said Shaw innocently when Reese continued to stare at her reproachfully.

“When are you going to stop being a jackass about this?”

“I’m not-” Shaw began, but quickly realised Reese wasn’t about to listen to any protests she could make.

“You were both clearly drunk,” Reese continued and Shaw wanted to shoot him. “You were both _definitely_ into it,” he added and Shaw felt like throwing up at the thought of how _happy_ she had looked in that stupid wedding video. “Whatever happened last night, it wasn’t Root’s fault.”

“I know,” said Shaw quietly, wishing she didn’t find it so easy to blame Root for everything. “Let’s just go find Finch,” she added, hoping Reese would drop it and that they could get this over with and head back to New York.

But even that, the thought of heading home, that left her with an unsurity that weighed heavily in her gut. Because what the hell were they supposed to do when this was over?

No answer to that question came readily to Shaw and the feeling in her gut seemed to get worse as they stalked down the corridor and back to the reception desk.

They found Root signing some discharge papers and Shaw felt her movements get lighter as she moved towards her, the heavy weight loosening a little, making it easier for her to breathe.

“So where now?” Shaw asked, automatically looking to Root and forgetting that, right now, they didn’t have an all-seeing super God to give them a guiding hand.

“No idea,” Reese began with a shrug, but was quickly interrupted by a stern voice behind him.

“You three again.”

Shaw turned to look, surprised to find a cop wearing a Las Vegas PD uniform glaring at the three of them severely.


	5. Chapter 5

_15 hours ago…_

Shaw didn’t know why Harold was so insistent on taking them all out to dinner to celebrate. It wasn’t like this was their first number, but Reese had wanted to humour him and Shaw decided, in the end, just to go with it. At least he had picked a decent restaurant, Shaw thought, and felt her stomach growl eagerly.

She wasn’t too thrilled about the dressing up part, however, and couldn’t help but fidget with her dress as she walked into the restaurant. It was too tight and shorter than she remembered.

Shaw frowned. Now that she thought about it, she wasn’t sure it _was_ the same dress.

“Someone looks like they’re dressed to impress,” said a coy voice in Shaw’s ear.

“Did you switch my dress?” Shaw ground out through gritted teeth.

“I don’t know what you are talking about, Sameen,” Root said, her voice filled with that familiar simpering twang.

Shaw whipped around. “You’re so full of-”

“Do you like my dress?” Root asked, that ridiculous smirk shining bright on her face.

Shaw nodded absently as she stared at the deep red dress Root was wearing, hugging all her curves in just the right places.

“Hey, eyes up front, soldier,” Root scolded when Shaw’s eyes continued to linger on Root’s amply exposed cleavage. “You still haven’t made a decision yet.”

“What,” said Shaw flatly, snapping her eyes up, “so now I’m not allowed to look?”

Smirk still in place, Root leaned in close until their lips were barely an inch away. “Well, I suppose you _can_ look,” she said, voice low. “Just no touching.”

Shaw swallowed thickly, licking her lips in anticipation even though she knew Root was serious about the no touching rule.

Root’s smirk widened, clearly enjoying Shaw’s reaction as she brushed past her and headed for their table. Letting out a groan, Shaw knew it was going to be a long night, and followed Root further into the restaurant. Rolling her eyes when Harold quickly stood up as they approached, and glaring at him when he offered to help push her chair in, Shaw took the seat opposite Root. It gave her an excellent view Root’s cleavage, especially when Root leaned forward purposefully.

“Would you like some champagne?” Harold asked, pulling the bottle out of the ice bucket sitting in the middle of the table.

“God, yes,” Shaw breathed out, perhaps a little _too_ eagerly. No one but Root seemed to notice though, going by the smug smirk on her face and Shaw quickly downed the contents of her glass before she gave into the temptation to punch the look off her face.

Harold raised an eyebrow, but she chose to ignore his questioning look and gestured for him to refill her glass. This time she forced herself to take small sips, uncomfortably aware that Root was watching her as she feigned listening to whatever Harold was saying. He was being soppy again and Shaw decided for all their sakes it was best if she just tuned him out until it was over.

Although she did grin slyly at Root when she glanced at Reese, a watery gleam to his eyes like he was about to burst into tears and she knew Root was storing the information for later use as ammunition.

The second and third glass of champagne didn't make it until the main course. Shaw preferred red wine with her steak anyway and was pleased when Harold ordered the most expensive bottle on the menu. She was _not_ pleased about his improvised wine tasting lesson and stabbed into her steak with more force than necessary.

Root was still watching her. She had developed this really weird thing about watching Shaw eat lately and it was getting more than a little on her nerves.

"Enjoying the view?" Shaw snapped.

Root leaned over to refill Shaw’s glass, exposing her cleavage once again. "Are you?" she smirked.

It took Shaw a moment to realise her mouth was hanging half open, and she quickly swallowed down her food before shooting Root her best glare. She was doing it on purpose. _Again._

Harold and Reese didn’t notice though, they were too busy discussing… ugh; Shaw didn’t even care and focused on ignoring Root and finishing her steak.

Shaw opted out of desert and instead finished the bottle of wine she was supposed to be sharing with Harold. The bottle she was pretty sure she had consumed most of herself, now that she thought about it. Root, however, ordered the chocolate cake and made a show of slowly licking her spoon clean with every bite.

Rolling her eyes, Shaw tried to concentrate on whatever boring story Harold was telling. Whatever it was, it sure had John riveted, but Shaw found herself tuning him out, eyes sliding to Root again when she caught movement out of the corner of her eye.

A dollop of cream fell from the spoon in Root's hand, sliding down her chest and towards the space in between her breasts. Shaw was pretty sure she must be drooling by now. If she wasn’t, it was a goddamn miracle, and she gripped the nearest thing she could find tightly in her hand. A left over dinner knife, the metal cool against her skin, a violent contrast to the heat currently pooling between her thighs.

"Oops," said Root and used a finger to scoop up the fallen cream. Her eyes locked with Shaw's as she licked her finger clean and Shaw ground the knife into the table, her fist clenching around it tightly.

"Excuse me,” said a voice in Shaw’s ear, "may I take that?"

"No," said Shaw without looking.

"You're kind of ruining the table."

"Then add it to the tab," Shaw snapped, turning to glare at the waiter. He took a clumsy step back and didn't try to take the knife from her hand.

"Actually,” Shaw added before he could disappear.  "Get me a scotch. Single malt. Make it a double.  Well, hurry up," she snapped when he failed to move and then glared at his retreating form.

When she turned around, Root was missing from her seat. A quick glance around the restaurant told her that Root was nowhere in sight.

"Bathroom," Harold said absently, frowning down at his phone and then checking his watch.

Shaw ignored him and pretended she didn’t care about this new piece of information and waited until the waiter had returned with her drink a few moments later. She snatched it from his hand and downed it quickly, enjoying as it burned down her throat. It was good stuff. At least 15 years old, she thought, and was glad Harold was footing the bill. Shaw excused herself, hoping that enough time had passed so that she didn’t seem _too_ obvious.

Reese shot her a knowing smirk as she passed, but she ignored him like she had been doing for most of the evening and headed for the bathroom, banging through the door abruptly when she reached it.

Root was checking herself out in the mirror (there was no other way to describe it, really, and Shaw had the fleeting suspicion that Root had been expecting her), but she paused to stare at Shaw’s reflection in the mirror, her eyes bright and mischievous.

Shaw checked under the stalls, confirmed that they were all empty before locking the bathroom door. Alone, without Reese and Harold to act as a barrier between them, Shaw found the temptation to press her lips and teeth against Root’s skin almost overwhelming.

“Can I help you?” Root asked sweetly when Shaw continued to stare at her. Shaw felt her anger flare.

“You can't just hand me an ultimatum and put on a show dressed like that and expect me not to -” Shaw cut herself off abruptly.

“Expect you not to what?” Root asked, turning around and smiling wickedly like she knew exactly what was on Shaw’s mind.

“And I know you did something to my dress,” Shaw added angrily, hiking the hem down slightly when it rode upwards again and knew she was right when Root’s grin widened. But Shaw had had enough of her games, and she moved forward until their bodies were pressed together tightly and smirked in satisfaction when Root instinctively stepped back, trapped between Shaw and the row of sinks.

“What happened to no touching?” Root said hoarsely.

“That’s your stupid rule,” Shaw pointed out. “And I really think we ought to discuss the practicalities of it.”

“Practicalities?” Root asked, but it came out more as a squeak.

Shaw nodded. “Considering we’re both drunk right now-”

“I’m not drunk,” said Root, sounding affronted.

“You’ve had three glasses of champagne,” Shaw said flatly. “You’re drunk.”

“You think you know me so well,” Root said, but she looked pleased with herself.

“I do know you so well,” Shaw admitted before she could stop herself. It seemed to throw Root off for a second though and Shaw took the opportunity to lean in even closer.

“So,” said Root slowly and carefully as if she were unsure about something, “we’re both drunk?”

Shaw shrugged. She didn’t think she was _that_ drunk. But then again, she had never cornered Root (or anyone) in a restaurant bathroom like this before.

“I suppose it doesn’t count if we’re both drunk,” Root said contemplatively and it was all the permission Shaw needed to press her lips hungrily against Root’s. Her hands quickly found Root’s hips and she urged her up onto the sink counter. The red dress slid upwards slightly, revealing pale thighs. Shaw dug her fingernails in, leaving little pink crescents that teased a moan out of Root’s mouth.

Shaw pulled away and grinned. “You’re eager.”

“Shut up,” Root said haughtily, making Shaw wonder just how worked up Root had made herself at the dinner table.

“Make me,” Shaw said, biting down roughly on Root’s neck. Root tightened her grip on Shaw’s hips, pulling her closer and only furthering Shaw’s point in the process. Shaw consider briefly slowing this down, but then again, the majority of their most memorable encounters had been quick and rough, stolen moments in between their fight against Samaritan.

But now that threat had gone and things didn’t seem so urgent. Now there wasn’t the constant, nagging thought of _this could be last time_ hanging in the air. The world wasn’t about to end this time, but yet the feeling of it still remained, sitting hot and dark in the pit of Shaw’s stomach.

“What?” said Root when Shaw stilled, giving her a questioning look.

“Nothing,” said Shaw, ducking her head down to trail her tongue down Root’s exposed chest and towards apex of her breasts. She could taste the sugary sweetness of the cream that had been there  before and shoved a hand up Root’s dress, feeling the heat radiating from her, burning hot and almost too much. It made Shaw wonder if she was drunker than she had believed, if that’s why her head felt so light and dizzy. She wasn’t surprised at all to find Root wasn’t wearing any underwear and it sent a jolt of pleasure through her at the thought that she had been sitting in between Harold and Reese at dinner whilst going commando.

Shaw’s mouth found Root’s again and she bit down hard on her bottom lip at the same time as her fingers brushed against Root’s labia. Root moaned, her hips bucking roughly against Shaw’s hand, seeking friction that Shaw was yet to give.

“What were _you_ thinking about a dinner?” Shaw asked, already feeling how wet she was.

Root narrowed her eyes in annoyance and shoved her leg up between Shaw’s thighs. Shaw groaned into Root’s smug smirk, knowing fine well what _she_ had been thinking about at dinner and what effect it had had.

Another moan escaped Root’s lips when Shaw gave her the friction she so desired, slipping two fingers inside of her and moving them slowly.

Shaw broke the kiss, watching as Root’s eyes slid closed and her breathing became erratic. Watched the buck of her hips as she urged Shaw on demandingly and wondered why she had ever tried to stop this. Wondered what they were doing and if they were both mad.

“Why are we doing this?” Shaw muttered, pressing her face into the crook of Root’s neck so she didn’t have to look at her. Her fingers stilled and she could feel Root stiffen.

“Because you really wanted to fuck me,” Root said tersely.

“Why?” said Shaw, looking at her again.

“Shaw,” said Root, almost pleadingly. “Stop thinking.”

“But-”

“ _Stop_ ,” Root said, grabbing Shaw’s wrist and urging her into moving again. Shaw complied, feeling lightheaded and wondering how much of it was to do with the alcohol and how much it had to do with Root.

But then her muscles seemed to work from memory alone, and Shaw _did_ stop thinking, letting Root guide her hand until they got back into a rhythm. Root’s breathing became more and more erratic and, once again, Shaw had the urge to slow this down. She wanted to savour the moment, wanted to watch Root come undone in slow motion so that she could replay it again and again in her head.

“Are you thinking again?” Root asked breathlessly.

“No,” Shaw lied and brushed her thumb against Root’s clit. She could feel her muscles clench around her hand and smirked at the way Root bit down on her own lip, knowing she was close.

“Shaw,” Root whimpered and Shaw knew what she wanted. She just wasn’t sure she wanted to give it yet.

Shaw kissed her again and groaned when the knee between her thighs brushed against her clit almost violently.

“Stop being so impatient,” Shaw scolded and grinned when Root’s fingernails dug into her lower back, pulling her closer.

“Please,” Root begged. “I-”

But whatever she was about to say was cut off when Shaw pressed her thumb down roughly on Root’s clit. Shaw watched her ride out her orgasm, eyes clenching tightly shut, breathing shallow and thought it was something she wouldn’t mind seeing again and again for a very long time.

When Root opened her eyes, she leaned forward, pressing her forehead against Shaw’s shoulder.

“I don’t feel so good,” she groaned.

“Gee, thanks,” Shaw muttered, extracting her hand and gripping Root by the waist.

“That wasn’t a critique of your performance,” Root mumbled into her shoulder. “I think I’m going to throw up.”

Shaw rolled her eyes. “What is it with you and your inability to hold your drink?”

Root shook her head. “I don’t think this is the champagne.”

“Yeah,” said Shaw sceptically, “ _right._ ”

But now that she thought about it, she wasn’t feeling so hot herself.

The light-headedness was back and with Root so close, the smell of her perfume, the shampoo she had used in her hair that morning, was cloying and suffocating. Nausea swelled within Shaw’s gut and she stepped backwards, breathing heavily as she struggled to fight it.

“Are you okay?” Root asked.

Shaw nodded and took another step back leaning heavily against the solid partition between the stalls.

“What was in that champagne?” she muttered.

Root shrugged and hopped off the sink. She wobbled for a moment and Shaw reached out instinctively, worried that she was about to fall, gripping her forearm tightly in one hand.

“Something’s not right,” Shaw said but Root looked like she wasn’t listening and there wasn’t any time to question her further on it when someone banged loudly on the bathroom door. “Shit,” Shaw muttered, straightening her dress and running a hand quickly through her hair. She looked slightly more presentable. Which was more than she could say for Root who, minus the pale complexion induced by drinking too much, looked like she had just been thoroughly fucked. Which she had, Shaw thought smugly and quickly unlocked the door.

The woman who had been banging insistently stumbled slightly at the sudden lack of a solid barrier.

“Must have been stuck,” Shaw mumbled as the woman slipped past, shooting her an amateur glare. When her eyes fell on Root she frowned and then shot them both a scandalous look.

Shaw ignored her and went off in search of Reese and Finch to see if they felt as rough as she currently did. It didn’t take her long to notice that Root wasn’t behind her and she quickly doubled back. Finding Root still slumped against the sinks, Shaw rolled her eyes and grabbed onto her hand.

“Try to keep up,” she ordered, dragging Root along behind her. Root complied readily but Shaw suspected it was less to do with her tone and more to do with the dreamy quality to her look that the three glasses of champagne had brought on. Shaw had only ever seen Root drunk once before, and from that experience alone she knew Root sucked at handling her drink. At least she hadn’t thrown up yet and Shaw supposed she should be grateful for that, even if it did result in Root being slightly more… _clingy_ and unwilling to let Shaw go.

Glaring, Shaw batted away Root’s wandering hand, fingers trailing lazily up and down Shaw’s bare arm. It sent shivers up and down her spine but she ignored it and let out an exhale of annoyance when they returned back to their table only to find it empty.

“Where the hell are they?” Shaw grumbled.

“Maybe they finally decided to give into their mildly erotic fantasies,” Root said absently, an arm snaking around Shaw’s waist.

Shaw shrugged her off and ignored that comment, dragging Root back out to the front of the restaurant. There she found Reese, staring down at his feet and mumbling to himself.

“Where’s Harold?” Shaw asked.

Reese blinked at her stupidly before gesturing vaguely in the direction of the restaurant.

“Oh, I’m supposed to tell you something,” Reese mumbled.

“What?” said Shaw as Root came up behind her and wrapped both arms around her waist, resting her chin on Shaw’s shoulder. This time Shaw didn’t shrug her off and waited indulgently for Reese to get to the point.

“Can we go outside?” Root said loudly in her ear.

“I remember now,” said Reese, scratching his head thoughtfully before walking out the front door abruptly.

“I want a drink,” Shaw said.

“We should go for coffee,” said Root dreamily.

“No,” said Shaw drawing the word out like Root had said something outrageous. “Not _that_ kind of drink.”

“Oh,” said Root. “Wait here.”

Shaw felt suddenly cold and it took her a moment to realise Root had gone. Then she went outside and found Reese throwing up all over a potted plant.

“Dude,” said Shaw in disgust.

Straightening up quickly, Reese moved over to her and grabbed her by both shoulders.

“Number,” he said manically.

“Huh?” said Shaw dumbly.

“Number,” Reese said. “We got a number. Give me your gun.”

“No,” said Shaw. “Use your own.”

“I’ve lost mine,” Reese admitted, patting down his pockets to prove his point.

“Oh,” said Shaw and blinked rapidly when a bottle suddenly appeared in front of her face.

“I hope you like vodka,” said Root.

Shaw grinned and snatched the bottle from her hand.

“Root, give me your gun,” said Reese.

“I don’t have a gun,” said Root.

Shaw swallowed down some vodka, felt it dribble down her chin. Root smirked and leaned over to lick it off, her tongue warm and wet against Shaw’s skin. Shaw grabbed her by the back of the neck and crashed their lips together.

“Hey!” Reese said, pulling them both apart. “Focus. We have to save the number.”

“Right,” said Shaw, licking her still tingling lips. “Number.”

Reese nodded firmly and then stalked off purposefully into the middle of the road.

“He’s gonna get hit by a car,” Root said absently.

“Probably,” Shaw agreed and took another swig.

There was the loud screech of tires and the blaring of a horn. Then someone shouting.

Shaw smirked, leaning into Root when she snuggled her face into the crook of her neck and tried not to squirm when Root’s hot breath tickled her skin.

“Hey!” Reese yelled, waving them over frantically. “I’ve got us a vehicle.”

Shaw huffed in annoyance.

“I’m tired,” Root complained.

“Come on,” said Shaw, threading her fingers through Root’s and tugging her towards Reese.

Feeling a bit dizzy as she crossed the street, Shaw held on tightly to both Root and her bottle of vodka, challenging anyone to dare take either of them off her when Reese’s hand looked like it was reaching for the bottle.

“Get your own,” Shaw barked and hopped into the backseat, pulling Root in beside her.

*

“How long are they going to keep us waiting?” Shaw huffed.

Reese shrugged. His eyes were closed and he looked like he was trying his best to have a nap, but Shaw wasn’t making it easy for him. If she were being honest, harassing him was a lot easier than facing Root. So she was venting her frustration and boredom out on him.

“They’re cops, Shaw,” Reese muttered tiredly. “Paperwork and catching criminals comes before assisting hung over morons who can’t remember what they did last night.”

“Speaking from experience?” Shaw asked, already knowing the answer. She remembered how envious she had been when she had first learned Reese’s cover identity. But the more reckless he became, the more trouble he got himself in with his boss and with Harold, the more glad Shaw had been of her criminal side-life. At least she got to have fun without consequences.

“Why don’t you go bug your wife,” Reese suggested, his face hardening in irritation as he locked his hands together and put them up behind his head to lean on.

Shaw scowled. “Whatever,” she muttered, pushing herself off the wall she was leaning on and went in search of Root.

The police station looked a little familiar, but Shaw was still struggling to remember anything coherently. It made her worried, nuptials aside, about just what exactly they had gotten up to last night. This retracing their steps thing wasn’t making things any clearer and Shaw was starting to feel the irritation itch beneath her skin, urging her to take more direct action.

But at this point, she had no idea what direction action could be.

She found Root, arms folded tightly across her chest as she stared absently at a notice board filled with wanted posters and helpful advice on the dangers of drug abuse.

“Wish we had that last night,” Shaw said jokingly and sighed when she got nothing in return.

Shoving her hands in her pockets, Shaw struggled to think of something to say. She knew Root was holding back more than she had revealed in the ER, but wasn’t sure how she could broach the subject again without pissing her off.

“So,” she said slowly, “Reese says this might take a while. Want to go get some coffee or something?”

“Why?” said Root curtly.

“Root,” Shaw warned. She didn’t want to start an argument, but could feel the irritation flare hot in her stomach.

“Do you remember last night?” Root asked suddenly. “At the restaurant, I mean.”

Shaw shrugged. Her steak had been good, but she didn’t remember much else.

The sudden image of Root in a red dress flashed across her mind.

“Yeah,” she said carefully. “You were wearing _that_ dress.”

“Do you remember the bathroom?” Root asked. Any other day her voice would be playful and teasing, but not today it would seem.

Shaw smirked. _Now_ she remembered. Root’s little display at the dinner table. How quickly Root had wavered her no touching rule.

“Yeah, actually I-” But she quickly cut herself off at the look on Root’s face, hard and cold.

“It shouldn’t have happened,” Root said firmly.

“What?” said Shaw, her chest burning in a way she couldn’t explain. “Root-”

“None of this should have happened.”

“Yeah,” Shaw agreed, not sure _what,_ exactly, they were even talking about anymore. “But it did.”

Root looked away from her, making Shaw wonder what she was thinking. Why they couldn’t seem to stop arguing lately. But that, in between fucking whenever and wherever they could, was all they seemed to do.

“Hey, guys,” Reese called, waving them over. There was an impatient looking police man standing behind him, checking his watch. Shaw moved over to them and could feel Root following her, but maintaining a healthy distance that seemed to fray at Shaw’s nerves.

“Officer Hayes here,” said Reese, “says he remembers us from last night.”

Shaw looked at the police officer who looked more bored than she felt.

“The four of us,” Reese added.

Shaw raised an eyebrow. “Finch?”

But Reese shook his head dejectedly. “Doesn’t match the description.”

“Then who?” Shaw asked, starting to think that they were never going to find Harold.

“I think we had a number last night,” said Reese, glancing warily at the cop, but he didn’t seem bothered by Reese’s odd phrase.

Shaw frowned, remembering nothing about a number last night. The last thing she could remember was the bathroom, but even that was a bit of a blur. She couldn’t remember leaving it _or_ the restaurant.

“So we were arrested?” Shaw said, trying to think this through and finding it difficult.

“Yeah,” Hayes said, shooting Shaw a glare. “She,” he pointed at Root, “was covered in blood and waving a broken bottle about. And when I tried to take it off her, _you_ tried to punch me in the face.”

Shaw didn’t remember that but thought he probably deserved it.

“So I arrested all four of you and left you in the cells to sober up.”

Well that didn’t happen, Shaw thought, because after here they went straight to the ER and after that… well, apparently they had gotten married. Shaw shook her head, dispelling the thought away before it threatened to consume her.

“Your friend bailed you all out though,” Hayes continued. “About an hour later.”

“Friend?” said Reese.

Hayes nodded and checked the folder he was holding. “An ‘H. Crow.’ Ring any bells?”

Reese smiled. “Yeah, it does.”

“Harold,” said Shaw, once again feeling left with more questions than answers.

“Did he leave with us?” Reese asked.

“I don’t know,” said Hayes, and this time he shot both Shaw and Root a withering look. “I was too busy separating these too.”

“Separating?” asked Root, looking a little uncomfortable, making Shaw wonder if they had gotten into a fist fight or something.

“Yeah,” Hayes muttered darkly. “Going at it like Rabbits…”

Shaw cleared her throat awkwardly into the sudden silence. When she glanced at Root, it looked like she had known that was coming.

“Do you remember this?” Shaw hissed, choosing to ignore the smirk Reese was flashing at her discomfort.

Root shrugged. “Sort of.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Shaw shook her head, feeling her headache returning with a vengeance.

Although she wasn’t entirely surprised by their antics, not considering where they had ended up at the end of the night, she was more than a little disconcerted at how reckless they had been. Stolen moments here and there aside, they had never put their… _needs_ before a mission. Or done it somewhere where they could get caught. Well, _most_ of the time and usually the Machine was bleating warnings in Root’s ear if they were.

The officer made an excuse about having to get back to work and Reese quickly asked him where they had been picked up, jotting down the address on a scrap of paper.

“Hey,” Shaw added in afterthought as they were leaving. “What happened to the fourth guy?”

The officer shrugged. “Not my problem.”


	6. Chapter 6

_13 hours ago..._

Reese’s idea of “acquiring” a vehicle was to pester a cab driver until he eventually gave in and drove them to where they needed to be. Reese rode up front, yammering away to the driver about how he used to be an international spy. Then he was homeless for a bit before working for a totally awesome billionaire and then he had to become a cop for super serious reasons and both his new boss and his new partner either hated him or totally wanted to be him.

The driver kept shooting him doubtful looks and shaking his head. Shaw took another swig of her rapidly depleting vodka and smirked, wrinkling her nose up when Root’s hair tickled her nose. Root’s head had found her shoulder as soon as they had gotten into the back of the cab and for a while, Shaw thought she had fallen asleep, until she shifted suddenly, her nose brushing against Shaw’s neck. Shaw tightened her arm around her instinctively, her other hand still gripping the bottle of vodka.

Inhaling deeply, Root sighed in contentment. “You smell like unicorns and rainbows.”

Shaw grunted and drank some more vodka. She pondered what unicorns and rainbows must smell like and hoped it was something akin to gunpowder or gasoline. Those were good smells.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Shaw scolded, tugging on Root’s hair slightly when she stilled again. “We have a number to save.”

“‘M not sleeping,” Root mumbled against Shaw’s neck and as if to further her point, bit down on Shaw’s neck harshly. Shaw groaned and pulled Root up by the hair so she could crash their lips together.

It was sloppy and messy and Shaw thought she could taste the leftover hint of chocolate cake. But then Root pulled away, snatching the vodka out of Shaw’s hand and retreating to the other side of the cab with it.

Shaw scowled and watched as Root gulped some of the clear liquid down and was impressed when she didn’t choke.

“Have you been practising?” Shaw accused her.

Root shrugged. “We’re here,” she said suddenly, dropping the bottle into Shaw’s hand and opening the door before the cab had even come to a complete stop.

“Hey!” the cab driver yelled as Shaw blinked at the empty space where Root used to be, before quickly following her and grabbing onto her hand before she could go any further.

“This is boring,” Shaw complained. “Let’s do something fun.”

“Oooh,” said Root. “Let’s go make something explode.”

“No!” John declared, rushing towards them and ignoring the cab driver yelling after them all about not having paid yet. “We have to save the number or Harold will get mad.”

Shaw rolled her eyes. Sometimes John was so predictable.

Root pouted and then tilted her head to the side slightly. That concentrated look she always got when the Machine spoke to her was on her face.

“This way,” she said, tugging Shaw along, causing Shaw to spill vodka down her front when the bottle got jostled as she brought it to her lips.

“Hey,” Shaw complained, but felt somewhat mollified when Root squeezed her hand.

Root led them down a street and towards a house at the end - two stories and crumbling around the edges.

“Is our number in there?” Shaw asked. Root nodded and when Shaw turned around to tell Reese, he wasn’t there.

“He’s fighting the cab driver,” said Root absently. “Oh,” she added suddenly, “now he’s throwing up again.”

Shaw snorted. “He’s so lame.”

Root nodded in agreement and grinned, staring dopily at Shaw for a moment before they heard the sound of Reese stumbling towards them. Shaw growled in annoyance, wanting Root to herself without interruption. But Reese only moved forwards carelessly, wrapping an arm around each of their shoulders and swaying slightly.

“I need a gun,” Reese announced.

Shaw snorted. “Why? So you can shoot yourself in the foot?”

Reese’s face fell and Shaw thought he was about to burst into tears.

“Ugh, fine,” she said, shoving the vodka bottle into Root’s hand. “Don’t let him drink any,” Shaw ordered before patting herself down in search of her gun.

She frowned in annoyance when she couldn’t find it. “Did you take my gun?” she asked Root.

Root shook her head, her lips pursed as she blew into the bottle and giggled when it made a loud whistling sound.

“Hey, is that our number?” Reese said, abruptly pushing away from them and moving towards the man who had just come out of the house at the end of the street. “Are you our number?” he asked him.

The guy stared at him blankly for a moment before quickly turning on his heel and running in the opposite direction. Reese followed him and tackled him clumsily to the ground.

“Oh no,” said Root gravely.

Shaw tore her gaze away from Reese, the smirk on her face falling away as she saw how pale Root had suddenly become.

Eyes widening, Shaw immediately whipped Root around.

“Not on me,” Shaw said, guessing correctly that Root was about to throw up. Shaw held Root’s hair back for her as she continued to heave violently. “No more vodka for you,” she muttered darkly, scrunching her nose up in disgust as the smell hit her. But she didn’t move to take the bottle. Instead, Shaw used her free hand to rub soothing circles across Root’s lower back. She had seen it being done before in movies and during her time working long shifts in the ER and thought she was doing it right.

Moaning, Root dropped to her knees.

“Pull it together,” Shaw said, not unkindly. “We still have to save the number.”

“No,” said Root weakly. “We have to kill him.”

“What?” said Shaw, glancing briefly at Reese who was now currently sitting on their number to keep him in place.

“She wants us to kill him,” Root said.

Shaw stared blearily over at Reese for a moment, struggling to see the number clearly. “Why, who is he?” she asked.

But Root shook her head, refusing to answer. Shaw worried at her lip with her teeth for a moment before making the decision to head over to Reese. She didn’t like leaving Root but felt like she didn't have much choice.

"Hey, Reese," she said, prodding him repeatedly on the shoulder to get his attention. "Root says the Machine says we've to kill him."

"What?" the number yelled, his voice slightly muffled by the knee in his mouth. "But I didn't do anything!"

Shaw ignored him and continued to poke Reese. It was kind of fun and she wondered if it would leave a bruise.

"No no no _no_ ," said Reese, shaking his head.  "We don't do that. We're the good guys. Ask her again," he added, shooing her away back to where she had come from.

"You ask her!" she huffed and felt like sticking her tongue out in response to John's glare.

“No! Why are you always so stubborn?” he asked and Shaw thought he looked close to tears again. “You always do this.”

Shaw rolled her eyes, sighing heavily. “ _Fine_ ,” she said, but it was less to do with him and more to do with the sound of a bottle smashing behind her. “You better not have dropped my vodka,” she muttered threateningly as she headed back towards Root.

Something glittered in Root’s hand. It took Shaw a moment to realise it was the street lights reflecting off the shard of glass she was holding.

“What are you-” Shaw began and then rushed forwards when Root brought the broken glass up behind her right ear.

But Shaw’s legs didn’t seem to be working as well as usual and she stumbled forward, not making it to Root in time before blood had started gushing everywhere, staining her already red dress a darker shade.

“Stop,” Shaw said grabbing her wrist.

Tears were rolling just as freely down Root’s cheeks as the blood was pouring out of her ear.

“Stop it,” Shaw snapped, unsure if she was talking about the blood or the tears and tightened her grip on Root’s wrist, digging her fingers in deep enough to bruise. It seemed to snap Root out of it for a moment and she looked at Shaw with glazed over eyes, like she wasn’t really seeing her.

“Root?” Shaw asked cautiously and managed to pry the shard of glass out of her hand without cutting either of them. She tossed it aside and gripped Root’s other wrist as well.

Shaw wasn’t sure how to make the crying stop and she didn't have anything to staunch the bleeding. So instead she continued holding on tightly, hoping that Root would calm down by herself.

Sirens blared in the distance and Shaw was unsure if someone had called an ambulance or not. She couldn't remember.

Some of Root's blood dripped onto Shaw’s hand. Tangy and metallic in the evening air. The smell hit Shaw suddenly, almost suffocating.  The smell and sight of blood wasn't new to Shaw, but the nausea that the came with it was. That dizzy light-headedness returned, once again leaving Shaw feeling like something was wrong.

"I'll be right back," she mumbled reassuringly, letting go of Root and immediately wishing she hadn't when her arms dropped lifelessly to the side. "Don't move."

She felt a little better the further she moved away, but the tense tightening within her gut that was telling her something was wrong about this whole thing didn’t leave her. She found Reese still wrestling with the number on the ground, clumsily trying to keep him in place and only succeeding because he had about fifty pounds on the guy who was more bone than muscle.

“Something’s wrong,” Shaw said as soon as she was close enough, but she wasn’t convinced Reese was listening to her. The sirens were getting closer and Shaw thought they should get out of there before whatever emergency service it was showed up. But Reese didn’t seem all that bothered by the sirens and he continued to ignore her as their number got more and more restless, struggling underneath Reese’s grip desperately.

Tires screeched unpleasantly as a car rounded the corner; whoever was driving slamming the brakes on harshly and bringing the vehicle to a stop. Red and blue flashed across the street as two cops got out of the car, switching the siren off but leaving the lights blinking furiously. Shaw felt a headache coming on and backed up, readying herself for a fight as she watched one of the officers move towards Reese and the number to separate them.

The other one moved towards Root. Shaw’s gaze followed him with narrowing eyes as one of his hands moved to the baton secured to his belt.

“Drop the bottle,” he ordered.

Shaw darted her eyes to Root and saw the bottle neck gripped tightly in her hand, it’s broken end, sharp and menacing, tilted towards the cop.

In the dark, with blue and red lights flashing repeatedly across her skin, and covered in blood, Root looked more terrifying than Shaw thought she must have ever been, even back when she was an assassin for hire.

The cop’s hand moved from the baton to his gun and Shaw rushed forwards instinctively.

“Hey,” she called. “Leave her alone.”

Shaw’s presence by Root’s side seemed to allow the tension to leave Root’s body. The broken bottle slipped from her hand and landed on the ground with a smash. Shards of glass flew everywhere, including on the cop’s shoes. He glared down at his feet before grabbing Root roughly by the arm, twisting in behind her and whipping out his handcuffs.

Shaw wasn’t sure what it was that set her anger off. That he was about to arrest Root for no reason, or that he had the audacity to touch her in the first place. Either way, Shaw found herself stepping between them and bringing her fist up to meet the cop’s face.

Her punch went wide and Shaw stumbled forward as she met nothing but air. She moved to try again, but the cop grabbed her wrist, easily twisting her arm behind her. Shaw grunted as he snapped the handcuffs tightly around her wrists, but at least he had left Root alone for now, abandoning her at the side of the road as he pushed Shaw towards the squad car and shoved her roughly in the backseat.

Shaw kicked the closed door with her foot in frustration as she tested how tight the handcuffs were. Her arms were already aching from the strain and she knew there was no way she was getting out of them. Not yet.

Glancing out of the window, even slouching as far as possible, Shaw couldn’t see anything. She couldn’t see Root and reassure herself that she was okay. She couldn’t see John either, but she wasn’t all that worried about him. He was big enough and ugly enough to take care of himself.

More sirens approached and two more squad cars pulled up beside the one Shaw was in. She couldn’t see all that well through the intermittent blue and red lights, but she thought she could see movement outside; a figure she thought might be Root getting escorted into the backseat of the other car.

The officer she had tried to punch got into the driver’s seat without a word and called something into his radio.

“Where are my friends?” Shaw asked. But wanted to ask: _Where’s Root, you asshole._

The cop ignored her and started the engine as soon as his partner had got in and slammed the door shut.

Shaw sat in sullen silence, trying to free herself without either of the two uniforms noticing.

She wasn’t successful.

And she was still struggling by the time they reached the precinct, her muscles screaming in protest of her efforts. They pulled her out of the car and dragged her to the front desk. Shaw didn’t try to fight, feeling suddenly tired and waiting for signs of Root and Reese before planning how best to make their escape.

The sergeant at the desk took her to a small room to take her prints and mug shot. Shaw gave them a fake name, the first that popped into her head and she wasn’t even sure if it was legit anymore. But didn’t care all that much. This wasn’t exactly the first time she had been arrested, and she doubted it would be the last.

Then they dragged her off to a cell. Shaw spotted at least three opportunities to escape, but her legs felt unsteady, her co-ordination off, and she didn’t trust herself to pull it off.

 _Too much vodka_ , she thought. _Or something else..._

There was that dizzy feeling again, when the officer led her into a cell and slammed the cage shut. Without someone holding onto her firmly, she felt unsure on her own two feet, felt like her brain was going to explode out of her head. Seeing white spots in front of her, Shaw retreated to the only solid surface in the cell: a narrow bed that had a pitiful excuse for a mattress. Shaw sat down heavily, elbows on knees as she tried to control the nausea that swelled up again.

Deep breaths. In, out. In, out. Until the nausea passed and Shaw thought she could move again without wanting to throw up all over herself.

When she looked up, the door to her cell was being opened and a cop she had never seen before shoved Root inside, slamming the door shut. The turn of the lock was loud and ominous in Shaw’s ears and she wondered if she had missed her last opportunity for escape.

Shaw was up on her feet and moving towards Root before she could think about it, all previous nausea forgotten. It looked like someone had attempted to clean the blood up, but her dress was still stained as was the bandage taped clumsily behind her ear. Shaw peeled it back gently to examine it. Root offered no resistance, no lame attempt at flirting or innuendo - which Shaw found more than a little disappointing.

The wound had stopped bleeding, but it was jagged and raw. _Probably needs four stitches_ , Shaw thought. And cleaned. She didn’t think Root had damaged the implant, but she couldn’t be sure.

“Morons,” Shaw muttered darkly, glaring through the cell door. Not that anyone could see her.

Root slumped against the door and slid pathetically to the floor, tears still flowing freely. She brought her knees up and wrapped her arms around her legs. It made her look so small and vulnerable and Shaw wasn’t sure what to do with it.

“Is the Machine…?” Shaw trailed off, unsure about what she was even asking and not liking the look on Root’s face, how withdrawn and defeated she looked.

Shaking her head slightly, Root wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand. Shaw watched her carefully; wary of saying something that would set her off again and stepped to sit back down on the bed. Root looked more miserable than Shaw had ever seen her. She didn’t like it. She wanted her Root back; the Root who got on Shaw’s nerves, who flirted as if she were trying to break the world record for most innuendos in the one sentence. Shaw wanted that back, but she wasn’t sure how she could get it.

“Hey,” said Shaw suddenly into the oppressing silence, “wanna hear a joke?”

Root said nothing and sniffled as she stared down at her knees.

“Okay,” said Shaw. “What can be smooth but also rough? And no, that wasn’t a euphemism,” she added, but even _that_ didn’t get her a smile. “Endoplasmic reticulum,” Shaw said, smirking at her own punchline.

Root stared at her blankly, causing the smirk to slip from Shaw’s face.

“So not into biology then,” she muttered, racking her brain for something else. “Okay, I have another one. Oxygen went on a date with potassium…it went OK.”

Root blinked at her, frowning slightly.

“O.K.,” Shaw said slowly. “Because oxygen’s symbol is O and potassium is K…”

“I got it,” said Root. “It just wasn’t very funny.”

Shaw leaned back against the wall, folding her arms in annoyance. “No one ever appreciates my science jokes,” she muttered.

Too busy trying to think of a more effective way to cheer Root up, Shaw didn’t notice her get up and move towards the bed until she was right in front of her.

“What are you-”

Root’s lips crashed against Shaw’s clumsily, losing the rest of Shaw’s sentence into Root’s mouth. Shaw didn’t mind all that much and wrapped her arms around Root’s waist, pulling her closer until she was on her lap. She could feel the wetness on Root’s face and wanted to kiss Root forever until the tears went away.

Someone moaned and it took Shaw a moment to realise it was _her._ She would growl or deny it or get her own back if it weren’t for the way Root’s teeth had found the side of her neck, grazing gently before she sucked down on it. Root grinded her hips down and Shaw felt something spark through her entire body, leaving all her nerve endings on fire.

“Root,” said Shaw, slightly startled by the intensity of Root’s movements. But Root ignored her, one of her hands gliding slowly up Shaw’s thigh, shoving Shaw’s already too short dress even further up.

“Wait,” said Shaw, grabbing Root by both sides of her face. Root let out a hiss as Shaw’s finger’s brushed roughly against her right ear. “Sorry,” Shaw muttered.

But Root wasn’t interested in her apologies. And she kissed Shaw hungrily again, fingernails digging in harshly into the sensitive flesh of Shaw’s thigh as she pressed Shaw further down onto the bed.

Root pulled back slightly to push Shaw’s dress up further and the dim fluorescence of the overhead lights gave the look in Root’s eyes an almost feral quality. Shaw kind of liked this new side she was seeing, like Root was giving it everything and holding nothing back.

It was like she had nothing else left to lose.

That was something that would have sent alarm bells ringing in Shaw’s head on a good day. But apparently today wasn’t a good day and Shaw allowed Root’s hand to complete its trek up her thigh, let out a groan when Root’s finger found her warm and waiting with arousal.

Shaw bucked her hips upwards, urging Root to move deeper and faster. She forgot about their surroundings, about where they were and how irresponsible they were being by doing this here and now.

But she didn’t think Root would stop even if she complained. Shaw wasn’t even sure she _wanted_ her to stop.

As her breathing became more erratic, when Shaw thought she would burst from it, Root stilled her movements, leaving a fire burning inside Shaw that was desperate to get out.

Shaw’s eyes found Root’s, dark and heavy. Raw and open with emotion that was intense and frightening. Shaw had never seen Root like this before, so free with it and Shaw wasn’t even sure she knew what it was she was seeing. It wasn’t something she herself had ever experienced before, and she was sure it wasn’t something she ever could.

“Root, I-” Shaw cleared her throat, hating how much it sounded like she was begging. She wanted Root moving inside of her again, wanted _that_ look gone and the flirty aloofness back on her face. She wanted Root and not this shell that the Machine had left her with.

The cell door screeched open at the same time as Root opened her mouth to say something and she immediately pulled away, leaving Shaw feeling empty and cold.

“Now that’s just…” snapped the cop who had arrested Shaw earlier. He shook his head in annoyance and stepped closer to them. “Why is it always during my shift?” he muttered to himself, grabbing Root by the elbow and pulling her to her feet.

Shaw was pretty sure she growled at him as she attempted to straighten herself. But he either didn’t hear her or was ignoring her as he busied himself handing Root off to another cop.

“You’ve both made bail,” he said, snapping his hand back as if he had been bitten when he moved to help Shaw stand. She glared at him and stood by herself, pretending she wasn’t feeling shaky and unsatisfied. She let the fact that she was pissed off show and the cop rolled his eyes.

“Come on, lovebirds,” said the cop, escorting Shaw out of the cell, “time to go.”

*

As Shaw stared up at the crumbling two storey house, she thought she felt the stirrings of something in the back of her mind. She couldn’t be sure though. Couldn’t be sure if it was a memory or just her imagination, the desperate hope to remember _something._

John was edgy as he passed her and stomped up to the front of the house. The frustration was coming off him in palpable waves and Shaw knew if they didn’t find Harold soon, he would end up doing something stupid. She left him to it though and waited on the sidewalk, taking in her surroundings that looked anything but familiar.

Shaw turned away as John rang the doorbell, finding Root staring absently at the ground a few feet away from the house. Biting her lip, Shaw made the decision to go to her. Something about Root’s recent behaviour set Shaw’s suspicions on edge. She was sure Root knew more than she was letting on. That she was remembering more than the rest of them.

“Hey,” Shaw said softly and was surprised when Root flinched. She wondered if it was because of her or if Root was just jumpy. “You remember something?”

Root pressed her lips together tightly and sighed. She still had her arms wrapped around herself tightly and Shaw thought it made her look smaller somehow, like she wasn’t all there.

“This is where I-” Root cut herself off and bit her lip, shaking her head. Her gaze fell to the ground again and Shaw followed it. Broken glass littered the edge of the sidewalk and Shaw remembered what the cop had said about Root waving a broken bottle around and covered in blood.

“Where you tried to cut the implant out?” Shaw said, watching Root carefully. “Has She said anything since?” Shaw asked, wondering when she had started using that particular pronoun to refer to the Machine, when it started coming out of her mouth so naturally.

Root shook her head, swallowing thickly. “It’s stupid.”

Her voice was shaky and Shaw thought she might be close to tears. Shaw thought Root should have been used to the silence by now, given how many times the Machine seemed to have abandoned her during the fight against Samaritan; long stretches of time when Root heard nothing and they received no new numbers. When they had all thought it was over and they had lost. It wasn’t something Shaw wanted to see again, Root like this, so lost and alone. It wasn’t something she knew how to fix either. There was nothing to shoot at, no visible wounds she could heal. Shaw was completely out of her element and all her instincts were telling her to retreat.

And yet she stayed exactly where she was. Something compelling her feet to remain where they were, and she felt the wedding ring on her finger again, heavy and cold and foreign like a disease. She wondered if that was what was making her stay. If it was exerting some sort of influence, some sort of _obligation_ , that forced her to stay.

“What is?” Shaw asked eventually when Root didn’t continue.

“Nothing,” said Root, her voice taut. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to you,” said Shaw, surprising both of them.

Inhaling sharply, Root finally looked at her. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” Shaw asked.

“ _That,”_ said Root, gesturing loosely at Shaw with one hand. “Just don’t.”

“Root,” said Shaw warily, grabbing onto her wrist to still her when Root tried to move away.

Root’s entire body stiffened and Shaw could see anger etch into her features.

“Whatever this is,” Root said sharply, gesturing between them both, “it clearly means nothing to you. So just stop.”

She tried to move away again but Shaw tightened her grip, pulling her back so that their faces were barely an inch away.

“Obviously last night meant something or I wouldn’t have-” Shaw quickly cut herself off, the ghost of a memory flashing through her head.

“Wouldn’t have what?” Root asked coolly.

“Nothing,” Shaw said quickly, letting go and taking a step back. She felt suddenly awkward and wanted to get out of there, far away from Root.

But the thought of that, of leaving Root alone at the side of the road, left her with a tightening in her chest that she didn’t want to analyse right now.

“We should see if John found anything,” Shaw mumbled, moving back towards the house and ignoring Root as she called after her.

“Anything?” Shaw asked, coming up behind Reese. She could feel Root’s eyes on her and tried to ignore it.

“Nothing,” said John. “We sure this is where we were picked up?”

Shaw shrugged. She had been straining to remember anything from the previous night all morning, but now, with _that_ particular memory ghosting through her head, Shaw found she didn’t want to remember.

“We were here,” Root said firmly.

“Well, whoever our number was,” said Reese, “they aren’t here anymore.”

“So another dead end,” Shaw finished and felt like banging her head against a wall. She could feel her energy levels dropping and really wanted to get something to eat. Get some fluids and caffeine into her system and sit and think this through instead of running about a city they didn’t know, chasing their tails in circles.

She was just about to make that very suggestion when Reese called out to someone on the street. Both Shaw and Root whipped around to look and saw a wiry man, one hand on the gate that led up to the house they were gathered in front of.

“Oh, shit,” the guy said when he saw them and then turned on his heel and ran in the opposite direction. Reese was already running, pushing past Shaw roughly in his haste.

Shaw straightened and grumbled furiously to herself. “Please tell me it’s almost lunchtime,” she muttered.

Root smirked at her and for a moment Shaw forgot about her hangover, forgot about how hungry she was and was just glad to see Root back to her old self again.

It didn’t last for long, Root’s features turning into a scowl as she looked away and moved to follow Reese. Shaw frowned, wondering what she had done this time to piss her off.

They found Reese and the other guy in an alleyway near the end of the block. Reese had him pinned up against a wall with one hand, the guy flinching like he thought he was about to be punched.

“Please don’t hurt me,” he cried.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” said Reese tiredly. “I just want some answers.”

“That’s not what you guys were arguing about last night,” he quaked.

“What do you mean?” asked Shaw, not liking where this was going.

A voice spoke up from behind them, quiet and small, sounding so lost and alone to Shaw’s ears. Shaw turned around, and looking was somehow worse.

“The Machine wanted us to kill him."


	7. Chapter 7

_10 hours ago…_

“Are you crying again?” Shaw asked, dumping a drink down in front of Root.

Root said nothing and continued to stare absently at a row of slot machines as tears flowed freely down her cheeks.

Shaw sighed and took the seat next to her. Root had been stoic and withdrawn ever since they had left the police station. Even at the ER she had remained quiet, unresponsive to the nurse’s questions.

It had been John’s idea to go to a casino, thinking that might cheer her up. Shaw had agreed but only because she had wanted another drink. She’d had several at the bar with John before he disappeared off to play some blackjack and now here she was, struggling to think what she could do with a crying Root.

“Wanna play something?” she asked, even though John had all the money. But Shaw thought she could steal them some chips from an unassuming gambler.

Root shook her head, sniffling softly.

Sighing again, Shaw leaned forward and rested her forehead on Root’s shoulder, feeling suddenly tired.

“Root,” she said and told herself it didn’t sound like she was begging. “You have to stop crying.”

Root’s entire body turned rigid and Shaw didn’t know if it was because of what she had said or because of the physical contact. She decided she didn’t want to look up and see the look on Root’s face then. So she kept her eyes closed and waited.

"What's the point?" Root said, sounding far away and lost. "The machine's gone. You don't want anything to do with me."

"That's not true," said Shaw, sitting up straight.

"Isn't it?" asked Root and Shaw wasn’t sure what she could do or say to convince her otherwise. She had been too busy trying to push Root away, to maintain some semblance of indifferent distance between them that she hadn't actually realised that was exactly what she had achieved. She'd pushed too far and too much and now it seemed Root had finally reached her limit.

Ice seemed to settle in Shaw’s chest then and she swallowed down some of her drink, hoping the burn of the alcohol would melt it. It didn’t and it only left her feeling sick.

"Where are you going?" Shaw asked when Root stood up suddenly.

Shrugging, Root said nothing and walked into the throng of gamblers. Shaw quickly lost sight of her and it wasn’t just like she was losing Root to the crowd and that she could find her later, pushing quarters mundanely into a slot machine and mechanically pulling the lever. No. This felt different somehow. Shaw couldn’t help but think that she had missed something important, but she couldn’t think what.

A bell sounded, announcing that someone had just won the jackpot, followed by the tinkling rush of coins and a raucous cheer. Shaw didn't know what there was to be so cheerful about and she swallowed down the rest of her drink, thinking that Root would have had something amusing and scathing to say about the lucky winners.

But Root didn't have the Machine anymore and Shaw didn’t have Root.

Finishing the drink that had been intended for Root in two quick gulps, Shaw wavered for a moment before making a decision and stood up. She was shaky on her feet and Shaw put it down to the sugar in Root’s fruity drink.

Even as she stalked through the crowd, lightly pushing the gamblers out of her way, Shaw couldn’t shake the feeling that her world was crashing around her. It wasn't a new feeling. She remembered Cole then, bleeding and dying on the ground because of her. That moment when she thought, _this is it. This is the end and I'm taking all these bastards with me._

A New York sidewalk, the world around her changed, when she was no longer Sameen Shaw and she didn’t know if she would see her team alive again. Walking away from Root, harder than she ever thought it would be. But somehow they had fought back; somehow the team had got back together again, despite Samaritan looming over them, watching everything. She had found Root again. Even when things were at their worst, Shaw always found Root and they always seemed to beat the impossible.

Shaw thought they could beat this now, this thing with the Machine and the number and the Machine’s resultant silence. But she had to find Root first.

Finding Root was her main priority. Shaw ignored everything else around her. Ignored the noise and the rush of the gambling as she pushed through the crowd.

A guy dressed in a white frilly tux stepped into her path and Shaw almost punched him in the face. He thrust a leaflet into her hand and Shaw took it automatically, moving past him and out into the casino’s lobby. There she found Root, sitting on the floor, her knees drawn up with her face buried in her arms wrapped around them.

Shaw wondered if she was crying again as she moved closer, dropping to her knees in front of her and resting one hand on top of Root’s, squeezing gently.

“Root,” she said softly, afraid to startle her if she spoke too loud.

“Leave me alone.” Root’s voice was muffled and cracked, so unfamiliar sounding to Shaw’s ears.

“You still have me,” Shaw assured her. “Even if the Machine is gone, I’m still here.”

“You’re just saying that,” Root mumbled so incoherently that it took Shaw a moment to work out what she was saying.

She knew then that she didn’t have the capacity for words to convince her. That she needed to _prove_ to Root that she was serious.

Glancing around for inspiration, Shaw noticed the leaflet still clutched in her hand. Letting go of Root, Shaw straightened the creases out of it and looked at it carefully, the threads of an idea forming in her mind.

As advertisements went, this one was both corny and cheesy, making Shaw want to simultaneously roll her eyes and throw up. Cupid’s Wedding Chapel was printed in bold pink letters, surrounded by red and purple hearts. The letter “C” in cupid was shaped like a big fat baby wearing nothing but a white toga and shooting an arrow into one of the hearts. Underneath this monstrosity were the words “Drop-ins welcome; marriage licenses available until midnight - 7 days a week!”

“Marry me,” Shaw blurted before she could change her mind.

Root’s head shot up sharply, crying suspended momentarily. “What?”

“Let’s get married,” Shaw said, sounding surer of herself this time.

“Are you making fun of me?” Root asked, wiping her cheeks dry with the back of her hand.

“No,” said Shaw. “We’re in Vegas. It’s what people do, isn’t it?” she added with a shrug. She didn’t like the way Root was looking at her as if she had just announced her allegiance with Samaritan.

Shaw closed her eyes briefly, feeling dizzy again as she tried to find the right words that wouldn’t send Root running.

“You still have me,” Shaw repeated, struggling to push the words out of her mouth that suddenly felt like it was full of cotton wool or something. “If we get married, then you have me forever, right?” It made sense to Shaw. She thought it would give Root reassurance that Shaw wasn’t about to bail any time soon, and Shaw always did find actions easier than words.

“You’re serious?” Root asked, staring at her dubiously.

Shaw nodded. She wanted Root and if this was the only way to convince her of that then she would do it.

“Married?” Root asked. “When?”

“Now,” said Shaw, glancing at her watch. If they hurried, they would have time.

“Now?” asked Root, sounding startled and unsure of herself.

“Yeah, now,” said Shaw, feeling Root’s uncertainty seep into her skin. “Don’t you want to?” Shaw asked hesitantly. She had been too busy worrying about losing Root that it had never occurred to her that Root might not want _her._

“You know what, nevermind,” said Shaw, standing up quickly. “It was a stupid idea.”

She let the leaflet drop from her hand and fall to Root’s feet as she made a quick getaway, thankful, for once, of the crowd that she could get lost in and headed to the bar. She ordered several shots of tequila, put them on John’s tab and then proceeded to down them all one after the other.

She wanted to forget. Forget this stupid night, their stupid number and the Machine going haywire. She wanted to forget Root but didn’t think any amount of alcohol ever could let her forget about her. Her touch, the smell and the taste of her. It was all so ingrained in Shaw’s mind that she thought she would remember it for the rest of her life.

Shaw ordered and downed five more shots when she felt hands on her shoulders. She knew who it was without looking. Recognising that scent of perfume, the curve of those hands.

“It’s not a stupid idea,” said Root.

Shaw stiffened, expecting to hear doubts and the many excuses as to why this was a Bad Idea.

“But we’re going to need a witness,” Root added.

Shaw smirked, downed her last shot and stood up, turning so she could kiss Root. “I have someone in mind,” she said. “Wait here.”

Disappearing back through the rows of slot machines again, she found who she was searching for. Turning her nose up at the frilly white tux, Shaw stanched one of the Cupid’s Wedding Chapel pamphlets out of the guy’s hand and was back making her way through to the blackjack tables before the guy could protest.

She found Reese. He wasn’t playing blackjack.

“Dude,” said Shaw, averting her eyes. “Put a shirt on.”

But it didn’t look like Reese was paying her any attention, too busy allowing some blonde chick in the casino’s uniform to do body shots off his bare belly.

“I’m busy,” Reese said, waving Shaw away.

Shaw didn’t budge. “I need you to cause a distraction and then meet me here.” Shaw shoved the leaflet into his hand and glared at him until he knew she was serious. Reese sighed and pushed the blonde away from him. She scowled at him crossly and tried to get his attention again.

“How big a distraction?” he asked, pulling his shirt back on and shrugging the blonde away from him.

Shaw grinned. “I just need a five minute window.”

Returning to the bar, Shaw found Root where she had left her, sitting at the bar and sipping at a bright pink drink. Shaw moved up behind her and grabbed her hand.

“Come on, let’s go.” Shaw tugged on her hand gently and pulled her towards the middle of the casino.

The jackpot winners from the slot machines were in deep discussion with an important looking casino person who Shaw assumed must be the manager. He had a set of keys in his hands, a large keyring with the casino’s logo on the front attached to them. Shaw knew exactly what they were for and eyed up the bright red motorbike behind him. She liked the colour, reminding her of Root’s dress and she thought it would be kind of hot to have Root matching it as they rode the bike out of there.

“What are we doing?” Root asked.

“Getting us a ride,” said Shaw and waited for Reese and his distraction.

As distractions went, it wasn’t Reese’s finest performance. But it worked. Shaw allowed herself only a moment to watch him running through the crowd, pile of casino chips he was unlikely to have won by himself clutched tightly inside the upturned bottom of his shirt, the blonde casino worker chasing after him.

The manager’s head whipped around at the commotion and Shaw snatched the keys out of his distracted hands at the same time as the blonde tackled Reese to the ground.

Shaw pulled Root towards the motorbike and hopped on, starting the engine quickly as Root got on behind her and wrapped her arms around Shaw’s waist. Her grip tightened as Shaw rode the bike off the small stage it was displayed upon and out towards the casino’s exit.

Gamblers screamed and jumped out of the way as Shaw rode on, heedless of the crowd and uncaring if she hit anyone. She heard shouting behind her. No doubt whatever attention had been on Reese was now on her and Root.

The tires screeched underneath her as they made it out of the casino and onto the busy street, and it didn’t take Shaw long to escape any pursuers. The wind whipped at her face, like ice stabbing into her skin, but Root was warm and solid behind her, reassuring in her presence. Shaw pressed her foot down on the pedal harder, enjoying the way Root’s grip tensed, the way she held on tightly to Shaw as if she were her anchor to the world. She only slowed when Root’s hold became painful, digging into her ribs and making it difficult for Shaw to breathe.

Root’s teeth found her neck, one hand dipping lower, brushing lightly across Shaw’s thigh, causing Shaw to shiver for reasons other than the cold, biting wind.

“What are you doing?” Shaw croaked, unsure if Root had heard her over the rushing wind.

Root’s lips moved from sucking at Shaw’s neck and up to her ear. “Keep driving.”

“But-”

Root’s fingers brushed against her labia, causing Shaw to swerve the bike violently.

“Stay steady,” Root mumbled, nuzzling on Shaw’s neck again.

“Root, this isn’t-” Shaw began, unable to form words coherently and struggling to see straight. “You’re gonna make us crash.”

“Just keep driving,” Root ordered gently and Shaw groaned as Root pressed her fingers inside of her.

She swerved again, but Root’s other hand pressed firmly against her stomach, allowing Shaw to focus and straighten them onto the centre of the road once again. Shaw slowed them down, dropped them ten below the speed limit, but still felt like they were going too fast, being too reckless.

“Faster,” Root demanded. Shaw obeyed and when the bike picked up speed, so did Root’s fingers.

It wasn’t the fear of crashing, the possibility of getting stopped by a cop and arrested for the second time that night, that prompted Shaw to eventually slow down, turning the bike sharply into an alleyway and killing the engine. It was the fact that she couldn’t touch Root when she was busy driving and, right then, there was nothing Shaw wanted to do more.

Hopping off the bike, Shaw grabbed onto Root and slammed her up against the orange-brick wall. Root let out a moan, quickly muffled by Shaw’s lips crashing against hers. Desire flashed through Shaw’s body, setting her nerve endings alight, leaving Shaw with a heightened awareness. She could smell Root’s perfume just as keenly as she could taste the sugary aftertaste of Root’s fruity cocktail on her mouth. Root’s skin felt smooth and soft under Shaw’s fingertips, her body heat radiating and seeping into Shaw’s skin, filling her whole and making her think she would never be cold again.

Pulling away, Root leaned her head back against the wall and grinned before pushing Shaw backwards until her back hit the far wall. Shaw grunted, a dull throb quaking in her bones.

One of Root’s knees thrust its way in between Shaw’s thighs and she bit down hard on Shaw’s bottom lip, pulling apart slightly without letting go. Shaw enjoyed the sting and dug her fingernails into Root’s upper arms. Root seemed to know what she wanted and her hand slipped beneath Shaw’s dress once again, resuming her steady rhythm as if they had never been interrupted.

Shaw’s eyes fluttered closed and she forgot everything around her, forgot who she was and why she was here. Knew only Root and the familiar feel of her.

“Are you sure?” Root mumbled against her lips.

“About what?” Shaw asked, opening her eyes and seeing Root’s in front of her, big and bright, desire mixed with something else. _Worry_ , Shaw thought and remembered that the Machine was gone.

“About this,” Root said, kissing her softly, despite the rapid contrast of her thumb brushing furiously against Shaw’s clit.

Shaw’s breath caught in her throat and, for a moment, she was unable to speak.

“About us,” Root continued, lips sucking at the base of Shaw’s throat.

“Yes,” Shaw groaned, but she could be agreeing to anything right now if Root continued to touch her in that way. Just the right amount of gentle teasing and harsh strokes.

“But are you sure?” Root repeated.

Shaw groaned again, her muscles tightening around Root’s hand. She was close and she almost whimpered when Root stopped.

Eyes flashing furiously, Shaw glared at her. “Root…”

“I need you to be sure,” Root said.

That vulnerability was back, seeping into her look, into her voice and Shaw felt a flash of annoyance at the Machine for leaving her like this.

“I’m sure,” said Shaw, feeling more sure than anything, even the solid weight of a gun in her hand or the ground beneath her feet.

A grin shone bright and wide on Root’s face and she ducked her head, kissing Shaw hungrily, moving within Shaw once again, all teasing forgotten.

Shaw came then, Root’s name on her lips, lost to the layers of her skin as she buried her face in Root’s neck, holding onto her tightly. Root let out a breezy laugh and Shaw wasn’t sure if it was at her or with her, but at that moment, she didn’t care all that much. She was just glad there were no more tears.

*

“Why would the Machine want us to kill him?” Shaw asked, following Root as she stormed back down the alleyway. She left Reese to try and get some answers from the number and wondered once again if Root was holding something back. “Root?” Shaw grabbed onto her arm, slowing her down as she tried to get her attention.

“Don’t touch me,” Root snapped, pulling out of Shaw’s grip. To Shaw it felt like a slap in the face and she stepped back, watching Root warily.

“What’s going on?” Shaw asked, this time more softly. She wanted to get mad, say terse words and get into the argument that Root was itching to start. But she found that she couldn’t. She felt only exhaustion and wanted this goddamn day to end.

“Nothing,” said Root, her eyes bright and watery.

“Don’t lie to me,” said Shaw.

A breathless exhale left Root’s mouth, something akin to a humourless laugh. Shaw saw the anger flare in her eyes and felt it when Root pushed her roughly up against the wall. The impact jarred throughout Shaw’s body and she knew she would be feeling it later, bruised and aching.

Root crashed her lips against Shaw’s, almost desperate in the way that she clung onto her. Shaw kissed her back automatically, but there was an edge to it, that worry that sat heavily in her gut that she couldn’t seem to shake. She wanted to chalk it up to being hungover, the leftover remnants of whatever she had drank last night and whatever drug someone had spiked her with. But she knew that was a lie even as she thought it. That the worry was real, tangible in the way that she was acutely aware of everything that was wrong with Root.

She pushed Root away then, breathing heavily as she stared at her, the worry clawing its way up her throat and she couldn’t swallow it away. Root looked as shit as Shaw felt, but there was something else there too, sitting behind her eyes, distant and cold.

Shaw opened her mouth to say something, but she quickly swallowed back her words when Reese appeared behind Root. He shot her a concerned look which Shaw ignored, her eyes only for Root.

“Am I interrupting something?” Reese asked.

_Yes_ , Shaw wanted to say. Wanted to shout at him to go away. But instead she said nothing.

“No,” said Root coolly, staring at Shaw defiantly before walking away.

“I don’t think our number knows anything,” Reese explained as if everything was normal. Shaw didn’t know if he was oblivious or if he was just pretending for her sake. “Whatever trouble he was in, getting picked up by the police last night seemed to have prevented… well, whatever the hell was going on.”

“You mean us,” said Shaw absently, staring after Root as she walked down the block a bit before stopping and staring down at her feet with her arms wrapped tightly around herself. “They prevented _us_ from killing him.”

“I wasn’t planning on killing him,” said Reese adamantly and when Shaw turned her head to look at him he looked more than a little affronted.

“How do you know that?” Shaw asked. “We can’t remember anything.”

“I’m starting to remember stuff,” said Reese. “Flashes of things.”

“Yeah,” Shaw muttered, remembering kneeling in front of Root, who was crying so much that it didn’t seem like she would ever stop. “Me too.”

“There’s still one place we haven’t checked,” said Reese.

Shaw forced the memories away, knowing they wouldn’t be forgotten anytime soon.

“The restaurant where this all started,” Shaw said. Reese nodded and she followed him as he moved towards Root and hailed a cab.

Shaw spent the journey staring out of the window. Reese rode up front, responding to the cabbie’s questions reluctantly and Shaw was reminded of something else. Another cab ride, Reese up front and her and Root in the back. Only that time they hadn’t been so far apart, didn’t have the distance of an ocean between them as Root sat coldly on the other seat, refusing to acknowledge anything. It made the ride seem like it was ten times longer and Shaw held back the sigh relief that was eager to leave her lips when the cab finally pulled up outside the restaurant.

The place looked like it had just finished setting up for the lunchtime rush when they walked in and Shaw grabbed a menu from one of the empty tables, flicking through it as Reese cornered one of the wait staff and started asking him if he remembered them from last night. The waiter claimed that he didn’t and moved to get back to work. Shaw stopped him and ordered something off the menu, feeling her stomach rumble unpleasantly.

“You’ll need to be seated at a table if you are going to eat,” said the waiter.

“We’ll take that one,” said Root, not looking at any of them but further into the restaurant's dining room. Shaw followed her gaze, blinking in disbelief by what she saw there.

“Finch?” said Reese, his voice low with surprise.

“Mr Reese,” said Finch, climbing awkwardly to his feet. “I’ve been searching for you all day.”

“You’ve been searching for _us_?” said Reese.

Shaw was pretty sure Finch missed it, but she could detect the anger in Reese’s voice. There was relief there too, relief that Finch was safe and sound. And confusion as to why that was. _Maybe also disappointment_ , Shaw thought, that he hadn’t been allowed to play the hero this time.

“Please, have a seat,” said Finch, gesturing to the three empty chairs around the table. “Allow me to explain.”

“I think we’ll stand,” said Root coldly. Shaw glanced at her, surprised by the hostility in her voice. Root’s relationship with Harold had always been tense, but lately, in the months before the war against Samaritan got _really_ bad, they had come to a sort of silent mutual understanding. This new hostility was unsettling and Shaw knew then that the Machine was back in Root’s ear, telling Root Her tale of what had happened last night. And whatever it was, Root didn’t like it. Neither did Shaw, not liking the way Root was reacting to whatever the Machine was telling her.

“Finch, what’s going on?” Reese asked. He too seemed to have sensed that something wasn’t quite right about all this.

“He did this,” Root said. “Him and the Machine.”

“What?” said Reese, glancing between Root and Finch, as if unsure of who to believe.

"Please," said Finch, "sit."

He looked apprehensive to Shaw, making her wonder just what exactly he and his creation had gotten up to last night. She sat down then, willing to hear him out even though she already had an idea as to where this was going. She could feel both Reese and Root shoot her mutual incredulous looks. It was probably the first time in a long time that they had agreed on anything.

"You want answers, don't you?" she said, gesturing for them both to sit. Although it was mostly for Reese’s benefit. She suspected Root already knew all the answers.

Reese clenched his jaw for a moment, everything about him tense before he finally took the seat opposite Finch. Root remained standing, hovering nearby Shaw's right shoulder. Shaw felt her presence as keenly as every bullet that had ever pierced her body, hot and burning, unrelenting in its pursuit of pain. Except Shaw didn't know if the pain was intended for her this time or for Root.

"You have to understand," Finch began slowly, choosing his words carefully. It was the first time Shaw had ever seen him like this. She was used to a Harold Finch that conveyed his intentions eloquently and clearly.  "These past few months haven't been easy for me."

"They haven't been easy for any of us, Finch," Reese said.

"Yes," said Finch,  although it sounded more like he was disagreeing. "And it hasn't been any easier for me now that Samaritan has been destroyed. What we did..."

Shaw remembered then, that final showdown. The battle that decided the war. She remembered the blood and the screaming and didn't have to wonder if it kept Harold up at night.

"The cost was too high," Harold continued, his voice raspy with pain and regret.

"We did what we had to do," said Reese, sounding tired, like they'd had this argument already a thousand times before.

“But I have to know it won’t happen again,” said Finch.

“Harold,” said Reese slowly, “what did you do?”

“They,” said Root. “Harold and the Machine. It was a test.”

“A test?” said Shaw, glancing up at her. There was a dark look on Root’s face, like her entire world had just been shattered. Shaw realised then that it wasn’t because the Machine was gone. The Machine was back, talking to her again in whatever way She chose to. It was betrayal, that look in Root’s eyes. Betrayed by her God, her faith splintered and torn.

“You were testing us?” Reese’s voice was tight with barely suppressed anger.

“I had to know you wouldn’t kill again,” said Finch, almost pleadingly. “Not even if the Machine told you to.” He glanced at Root then and Shaw felt her stiffen beside her.

Annoyance burned through Shaw at that. Root did a lot of things at the Machine’s behest, and usually at the risk to her own life. But she never killed. Not anymore. None of them did.

Not until that night. That night where they destroyed Samaritan for good. Their last desperate attempt and winning an impossible war. But somehow they had. They had won, but not everyone had survived on both sides.

“And the drugging?” said Shaw, feeling her headache spike.

“Ah,” said Finch, looking sheepish. “I believe Mr Tao can answer that question. I employed his services to aid me with this endeavour, but it turns out Mr Tao has more initiative that I was expecting.”

“ _Leon_ drugged us?” Shaw asked sceptically.

“Apparently he slipped something into the champagne,” said Finch.

“GHB,” said Root, no doubt being told by the Machine what and how much exactly they had been given and was still circulating in their systems.

Harold nodded. “When I realised what he had done I removed your weapons and tried to stop you from receiving the number. But evidently I was too late.”

Shaw clenched her jaw in annoyance that she hadn’t noticed last night that something was wrong, that she had been too... distracted to realise her drink was spiked. She was even more annoyed about Harold taking her gun without her noticing. And now that she thought about it, although her memory was hazy still, she couldn’t actually remember seeing Harold drinking anything. He had been pouring the drinks freely but had never once taken a sip of alcohol himself.

“I can’t believe this,” said Reese, shaking his head and abruptly pushing himself up from his seat. The chair fell back with a clatter. “You should have trusted us.”

“John,” said Harold, but Reese was already making his way out of the restaurant. Harold stared after him, looking like he wanted to follow. But he remained where he was and eventually his eyes dropped down to the table.

"At least no one was hurt," said Harold.

Shaw wasn’t sure what it was about that statement that made Root walk out, but she felt the urge to go after her. Although she didn’t know what she would say once she caught up.

Instead, she stayed where she was, staring at Harold who carefully avoided her eyes until the waiter appeared with her food. Shaw was glad for something to focus on and took a large bite of her club sandwich, grateful she didn’t have to make conversation. She didn’t trust herself not to say something she would regret. Finch was still her boss after all.

“Is that a ring on your finger?” Harold blurted, staring wide-eyed at the shining band on Shaw’s left hand.

Shaw scrunched her nose up, not appreciating the reminder whilst she was trying to eat.

“Yes,” she sighed, seeing no point in trying to hide it.

“Who?” asked Finch, although he looked like he would rather _not_ know.

“Who do you think?” said Shaw. She wasn’t under any delusions about the fact that _everyone_ , including the dog, knew about her and Root.

“I see,” said Finch, still looking mildly surprised. Shaw chose to ignore the slight smile on his face and glared just to make sure he didn’t start spouting sentiments or anything. He didn’t, thankfully, and Shaw took another bite of her sandwich.

“Excuse me,” said Finch abruptly and stood up, following Reese and Root out of the restaurant. Shaw wasn’t sure which one of them he was going after, if he was going after either of them at all. She didn’t care all that much. Yes, she was pissed about the drugging and the deceiving, but she was just glad they had solved this whole thing. And Finch was right, no one had gotten hurt.

Not seriously anyway, Shaw supposed, thinking of the wound behind Root’s ear. It wasn’t the only wound she had, Shaw thought. The rest hidden below the surface, hard to see unless you knew how to look. And Shaw had gotten good at knowing how to look.

“Where did everybody go?”

Shaw clenched her teeth and looked up to find Leon sitting in Harold’s recently vacated seat.

“What?” said Leon innocently. “Why do you look like you’re ready to murder someone?”

“GHB?” said Shaw tightly. “Really?”

“What?” said Leon, shrugging his shoulders. “You all need to loosen up, looking so miserable and scary all the damn time. And angry,” he added, looking at Shaw. He stiffened and leaned slightly away from her. “You’re about to stab me with something, aren’t you?”

Shaw smiled a humourless smile and, if anything, Leon looked even more terrified.


	8. Chapter 8

“Where have you guys been?” John exclaimed as soon as they walked into the chapel, hand in hand. His eyes were bright and wide and he was swinging a bottle of rum loosely in one hand. His other arm was locked firmly around the shoulders of some dude dressed in all white. “This is my new best friend, Marcus,” said Reese.

“It’s Mark,” said Marcus.

“Hi Marcus,” said Root.

“Mark,” Marcus corrected.

“Whatever,” said Shaw impatiently. “Is this the place where you do the thing?”

“What thing?” asked John, taking a swig of his rum and completely missing his mouth. It dripped all down the front of his shirt and onto the floor.

“The wedding thing,” said Root.

“What wedding thing?” John asked.

“Yes, it is,” said Marcus, practically beaming and cleared his throat before launching into a well-rehearsed speech. “Welcome to Cupid’s Wedding Chapel; where we provide romantic and elegant wedding packages to-”

Shaw held up a hand to cut him off. “Hold it right there, bucko. All we need is the basics.”

“We?” said Reese.

“What kind of packages?” Root asked.

“Are you guys getting married?” Reese asked, his eyes going wider.

“Well,” said Marcus. “We do a special Elvis style wedding… But,” and here he lowered his voice as if he were telling them a secret, “my favourite package is the one with the doves.”

“Doves?” said Shaw sceptically.

“Oooh, do we get to shoot them?” asked Root, her eyes bright with excitement.

Marcus frowned.

“Where’s my gun?” Reese said as if he had just remembered he had lost it. “Do you have my gun?”

“No,” said Shaw firmly, snatching the rum out of Reese’s hand and taking a large gulp before handing it back. “No guns, no doves and _definitely_ no Elvis. Just the basics.”

Marcus’ face fell at that but he disappeared off to go set up for them.

“So,” said Reese, grinning widely. “Getting hitched, huh?”

“Shut up,” said Shaw. “All you need to do is be our witness. Right?” she said to Root quietly, unsure if anything else was actually required of him.

Root nodded. “I’d prefer Bear, but at least _one_ of the dogs is here.”

Reese frowned and it seemed to take him a moment to work out he had just been insulted. “She’s mean,” he said, pointing an accusing finger at a smirking Root.

Shaw rolled her eyes and she took Root by the hand again when Marcus waved them over.

“Good news,” said Marcus, “we have a slot open, so you won’t have to wait.”

Shaw didn’t care all that much about the particulars of the ceremony itself, and she suspected Root didn’t either. In fact, it was Reese that insisted on the flowers and Shaw only agreed to it to shut him up.

“What about your vows?” asked Marcus. “Have you written your own or would you like to just go with the standard? Most people do,” he added hurriedly when Shaw stared at him blankly.

“We have our own,” said Root.

Shaw frowned. “We do?”

“Sure,” said Root, smirking knowingly.

“Um… okay,” said Shaw, not convinced and worried that when the time came, she wouldn’t know what to say.

She needn’t have worried.

Wedding ceremonies were boring, Shaw quickly found out, even if it was your own and she found herself tuning Marcus out until she realised he had stopped speaking and was staring at her expectantly.

“Uh…” said Shaw.

“I’ll go first,” Root offered eagerly. Shaw nodded, unsure what she was agreeing to.

“Whilst we’re married,” Root began and grinned, “I promise never to eat the last bagel.”

Marcus stared at her for a moment as if expecting her to continue. When she didn’t, he seemed to realise she wasn’t joking and cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Now, Sameen, what are your vows?”

“Wait,” said Shaw, ignoring Marcus and his boring, droning voice. “What about pancakes?”

“Pancakes?” said Marcus dubiously.

“Can you make pancakes?” Shaw asked Root.

Root pursed her lips together tightly in thought. “No… but I can always go pick up some for you. Or learn,” she added.

Shrugging, Shaw quickly warmed to the idea and gestured for Marcus to continue. He stared between them both with his mouth hanging open before snapping it shut and clearing his throat quickly.

“Now, Sameen,” he said. “Your vows.”

“Right,” said Shaw. Still not having a clue what to say, she glanced at Root who nodded at her encouragingly. It seemed to fill Shaw with a confidence she had never felt before, making her feel lighter than air.

“Um,” said Shaw, “I suppose you can use my guns… if you want.”

Once again, Marcus gulped at them in confusion as Root grinned and Shaw smiled weakly at her, glad that she had appeared to have done something right for once.

“Okay then,” he muttered. “Uh, the rings.” He glanced at Reese who was holding the rings in one hand, a bouquet of flowers in the other, with his bottle of rum tucked under one arm.

Reese quickly handed them the rings and Marcus opened his mouth, no doubt to start spouting off some boring thing about what the rings represented. Both Shaw and Root ignored him and shoved the rings on each other’s fingers.

Marcus smiled when they were done. “Well in that case,” he said. “By the power vested in me by the state of Nevada, I now pronounce you wife and wife. You may-”

But Root was already pouncing on Shaw, kissing her hungrily.

“Um,” said Marcus after a few moments when the kiss only got more heated. “You still need to sign…”

Not listening to him, Shaw was too busy calculating the fastest way to get Root’s dress off. They only broke apart when Reese came over to them, squeezing between them both as he bawled his eyes out.

“I love you guys so much,” he sobbed into Shaw’s shoulder. Shaw patted him awkwardly on the back until he pulled himself together long enough to sign his signature on the marriage certificate. Then he declared that they should celebrate, but all Shaw wanted to do was get Root naked and have her all to herself.

Marcus offered to call them a cab and told them to return the next day for the wedding video. Shaw was about to ask what wedding video, but Root’s tongue started doing distracting things to her neck and she quickly forgot what she wanted to ask.

“Bye Marcus,” Reese called on their way out. “You’re my new best friend.”

“Uh, it’s Mark,” Marcus insisted. “And thanks… I think.”

Much to Shaw’s irritation, Reese sat between them in the backseat of the cab. But he passed the bottle of rum around, so that was a plus, and eventually they managed to ditch him in the hotel’s lobby.

“Hey, you forgot this,” Reese called, waving the marriage certificate in the air as the elevator doors slid shut on him.

Shaw’s hand immediately found Root’s hips, pulling her into a kiss.

“You think he’ll be okay?” Root asked, fingers caressing the nape of Shaw’s neck.

“Who cares?” said Shaw and slammed Root up against the side of the elevator. Luckily, they were the only ones riding it. Lucky because Shaw had plans. Big plans.

“You might want to hold onto the rail for this,” said Shaw, sliding down Root’s body and pleased when Root’s breath caught audibly in her throat.

She slid her hands down Root’s thighs before dragging them and the hem of Root’s dress up again, her skin warm and soft underneath Shaw’s touch.

“I love that you’re not wearing any underwear,” said Shaw and ducked her head, tasting Root and liking the way Root’s muscles clenched around her, thighs digging into the side of her head.

“Shaw,” Root gasped. “We’re not gonna-”

With Shaw’s tongue circling Root’s clit, her voice wavered. Shaw glanced up and saw her hands clutching tightly to the railing, knuckles white. Shaw dug her fingernails into Root’s thigh, hearing Root hiss slightly in pain and rewarded her by sucking on her sensitive clit. A whimper escaped Root’s mouth when Shaw climbed to her feet as the elevator slowed to a stop two floors below theirs.

Root glared at the two people who got on and Shaw wondered if they knew what they had almost walked in on. She didn’t care if they did. She didn’t care if everyone knew.

The couple quickly turned away from them, staring fixatedly at the elevator doors. Shaw smirked and trailed a hand across Root’s chest, squeezing her breast through the fabric. She could feel her own heartbeat racing, pumping blood rapidly throughout her body and all of it seemed to fuel her own arousal, leaving her skin burning. She nuzzled on Root’s neck, willing the elevator to move faster and led Root out by the wrist before the elevator doors had even fully opened.

Root’s room was closest so they headed there, exchanging bites and kisses like they were wielding a duel. Once inside, they kicked off their shoes and clawed at each other’s clothes.

Shaw got stuck in her dress, tripping over it, causing them both to fall clumsily onto the bed, Shaw landing on top of Root with a grunt.A throaty laugh escaped Root’s lips as Shaw groaned into her neck and stilled, feeling dizzy again, like she was going to throw up.

“I hope you plan on finishing what you started,” said Root, threading her fingers through Shaw’s hair and pulling it loose so that it fell across Shaw’s shoulders in light waves.

“Give me a minute,” Shaw mumbled into her neck, torn between wanting to lick Root all over and just falling asleep.

“Can’t handle your drink, huh?” said Root and Shaw suspected that this time, she _was_ laughing at her.

“No,” said Shaw, lifting her head up defiantly. “Just trying to devise the best way to make you come.”

Root snorted and leaned her head up to whisper in Shaw’s ear. “You know what I like.” Shaw did, because she liked it too, that mixture of pain and pleasure. But tonight, Shaw found that she didn’t want to hurt Root, remembering the self-inflicted cut behind Root’s ear, the blood she had been covered in only mere hours before.

Shaw bit and scraped her nails down Root’s body anyway. Never hard enough to draw blood though, just enough to leave Root gasping and wanting more, intending on just what Root had suggested: finishing what she had started.

A hand fisted in Shaw’s hair when she bit down roughly on Root’s inner thigh, lips finding sweet warmth. She listened to Root’s breathing as she moved her tongue, ignored Root’s requests for more, deciding to take her time. After all, they had plenty of it now.

Root made an executive decision then, pulling Shaw up roughly by the hair, kissing her hard. Shaw’s teeth sunk into Root’s bottom lip when she felt Root’s fingers inside of her and she rocked her hips against Root’s hand before pulling away.

Blinking at her curiously, Root moaned into Shaw’s mouth when Shaw kissed her softly, her own hand finding Root, picking up where her tongue had left off. She moved slowly though, despite Root’s impatience and she wanted to ignore the watery sheen in Root’s eyes. Didn’t want to think about if it was because of the Machine or because of her, how gentle she was being. How _careful._ Either option, right now, wasn’t a good one.

“Look at me,” said Shaw when Root closed her eyes. A single tear managed to escape and Shaw watched as it trailed across Root’s skin, dropping to the white sheet and staining it darker. Shaw stared at the widening dot, rippling outwards, uncontained, just like Root’s many tears.

 _Just like Root too,_ Shaw thought. Uncontained and relentless. Root had always been that. Relentless in her beliefs. Her belief in the Machine.Shaw tore her eyes away from the stain, her chest tightening when she saw more tears falling.

“It’s okay, Sam,” Shaw whispered, kissing her gently. “It’s going to be okay.”

Shaw wasn’t sure if Root believed her, or if the rock of her hips, the push and pull of her fingers inside of Shaw were just defiance. Shaw didn’t care all that much, just glad to see the tears dry up, glad to feel the steady rhythm of Root moving beneath her.

They came at the same time, loud and violently, the same name on each of their lips; Shaw’s quiet and desperate, Root’s full of hope and wonder.

Shaw collapsed then, feeling so tired. More tired than she had ever felt in her life. She fell asleep like that, one arm held tight across Root’s waist, holding her close.

 

_Two days later…_

Shaw hadn’t seen much of the others in the couple of days that followed after they found Harold. Reese had spent the time avoiding everyone. Disappearing off drinking, gambling or shooting kneecaps… Shaw didn’t know, or care all that much and was just glad when Harold left her be and busied himself tying up a few loose ends with both their numbers.

And Root… well, Shaw hadn’t seen or heard from her since she had walked out of the restaurant. A quick chat at reception had told Shaw that Root had checked out without telling any of them and Shaw didn’t know if she had gone back to New York or if she had just went to stay at another hotel, avoiding them all.

It did occur to her, when she tried calling Root several times, that Root might be gone for good, that she hadn’t gone back to New York, but somewhere far away where Shaw would never find her.

Shaw didn’t like to think about that too much and instead occupied herself at the craps tables, losing Finch’s money more than she was winning anything.

But the tightening in her chest caused by Root’s absence only intensified when Shaw saw her again at the departure desk at McCarran International Airport.

“Thought you’d gone already,” Shaw muttered. Root didn’t say anything, didn’t look at her either, just shrugged and disappeared through security.

Shaw watched as she was frisked by one of the security guards and bit her lip, feeling her insides clench once again inexplicably. She could feel Reese’s eyes on her as he stood behind her and wondered how much he was starting to remember from _that_ night.

Flashes of memory came to Shaw at the oddest of times. Like when she was sipping her morning coffee or rolling the dice at the craps table. Most of the memories were vague, nothing clear or substantial. But almost all of them made her want to cringe or throw up or both.

She wondered how much Root remembered, how much the Machine had told her. If the Machine was even still talking to her at all. She wondered if Root knew it had been _her_ idea. That this whole thing was her fault. If that was why Root was so mad at her.

Shaw hated flying and even more so considering she would be spending the return flight sitting next to a brooding Reese, who ordered two scotches from the airhostess before they had even took off. Shaw wasn’t bothered by it though. It meant she didn’t have to make small talk if he drunk himself into oblivion.

The flight was uneventful and Shaw found herself getting quickly bored, flicking through the in-flight magazine without really looking at it. Reese eventually fell asleep, snoring softly and reminding Shaw of the guy she had been stuck next to on the flight out. She had been bored during that flight too, but at least then she’d had Root in the seat behind her, making stupid jokes and innuendos.

For all her grumpiness and seeming irritation, Shaw did miss it. She missed the ease with which Root could slide into her life, keep her occupied and never bored. She missed the way Root challenged her and left her wanting more.

This Root though, the Root without the Machine, Shaw didn’t like. This Root that had been around ever since they had woken up two mornings ago with wedding rings on their fingers.

But Shaw had seen Root without the Machine before and she remembered how desperate that had made her, how reckless. Shaw didn’t like that Root. She feared for that Root. It reminded her too much of their first meeting, tied to a chair and Root so willing to torture her for information. So willing to do anything to get her hands on the Machine, regardless of the cost.

But even that wasn’t quite the Root she was seeing now. This new Root unsettled her in a way Shaw couldn’t explain.

Glancing up, Shaw was surprised to see the object of her thoughts making her way down the aisle, heading up front to the bathroom. Shaw waited a beat before deciding to follow, abandoning her unread magazine.

Jimmying the lock open wasn’t difficult and Shaw slipped inside, finding Root leaning against the sink with both hands, staring at her reflection in the mirror.

“I don’t think these are really designed for more than one person,” Root said dully as Shaw shut and locked the door behind her.

She leant against the far wall, watching Root closely. “I’m sure we’ll manage,” she said, playing along. Although she suspected it fell flat against both their ears and wasn’t surprised when Root’s eyes dropped, avoiding her gaze.

“What do you want, Shaw?” Root asked. She sounded tired, like she hadn’t slept all that much lately. Shaw blamed herself a little for that and wanted to scold Root for not taking better care of herself. But she didn’t. Because that road only led to an argument and Shaw wanted anything but to argue right now.

So instead she asked, “Are you okay?” and didn’t really expect a truthful answer.

Root let out a shaky breath, mouth twisting into something Shaw thought might be disbelief.

“Am I okay?” said Root, a harshness to her tone that seemed to whip at Shaw, leaving her stinging. “Even after everything, Harold still doesn’t trust me. The Machine...” Root shook her head, clenching her eyes shut as if in pain. “It doesn’t matter,” she muttered.

Shaw bit her lip, watching Root’s face reflected in the mirror. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she had let Root down somehow. That things would have worked out differently if she had done something sooner. She wasn’t sure what, but she couldn’t shake the feeling nonetheless.

“Root,” said Shaw slowly, choosing her words carefully, knowing that she only had one chance to do this right. Root glanced up, her eyes meeting Shaw’s in the mirror, their reflections obscured somehow, making Shaw feel like she wasn’t really talking to Root, not her Root, but some other version. “I don’t think the Machine was testing your faith in Her,” Shaw continued. “I think She was testing your faith in yourself,”

Root inhaled sharply, but at least she was still listening, albeit with a sceptical look on her face.

“You need to trust yourself to do the right thing, Root,” said Shaw, her voice softening. Root was staring at her, swallowing thickly as if she were holding back tears. “You did the right thing that night. Even if it was a little dramatically,” Shaw added lightly, remembering the glass bottle in Root’s hand and the blood that had covered her dress and was pleased when the corners of Root’s mouth curved upwards into a small smile.

“Shaw,” said Root, her name coming out more like a breath.

“What happened with Samaritan,” Shaw continued, “I know that isn’t how you wanted it to happen. None of us did.”

"But we still did it," said Root, her voice sounding faraway and lost. "And I don't know if I can live with myself because of it."

She sounded so much like Harold then that it amazed Shaw, and she wondered how he couldn't see it, how far Root had come. But then again, he had been testing all three of them, not just Root. She felt a stab of annoyance and it took her a moment to figure out that she wasn't all that bothered that he had been testing her.

She looked at Root, looking small and vulnerable, lost and alone and all Shaw wanted to do was scream at her that she was right here, that she wasn't alone. But Shaw couldn't find the words, her mouth dry and her tongue feeling thick, unable to move. Instead she reached out, fingertips brushing across Root's back lightly, moving without Shaw's permission. Root flinched and Shaw let her hand drop to the side when Root gazed at her with a hardened look that Shaw didn't know how to make go away.

Shaw felt suddenly unwanted under that unrelenting gaze and made a quick getaway, rushing down the aisle and slipping back into her seat with a relieved sigh.

"Join the mile high club again?" Reese muttered. His eyes were closed, his breathing shallow, giving him the appearance that he was still asleep.

"Shut up," said Shaw and felt a flash of annoyance when he smirked.

Root walked down the aisle and back to her seat, smiling briefly at Shaw as she passed. Elation swelled within Shaw, like someone had just turned off the gravity that was pushing her down and she smiled back, thinking that maybe things would be okay after all.

"You two made up?" John asked. Shaw shrugged. She wasn't sure yet.

"Speaking of which," said Shaw, hoping to deflect attention away from herself. "When are you going to talk to Finch?"

Reese clenched his jaw and said nothing.

Shaw sighed, the air leaving her lungs and leaving her feeling deflated. "Look," she began, knowing that Reese was probably going to just ignore her anyway. "I don't agree with his methods, but I get why he did what he did. What happened with Samaritan it... affected him. And I don't know how long it's going to take him to get over it."

Reese remained silent and, for a moment, Shaw thought he had ignored everything she had said.

"You think he's the only one having a tough time with this?" Reese said eventually, voice low.

Shaw didn't think that, remembering what Root had said in the bathroom, how she couldn't live with herself because of what they did. She wondered what it was like, to have so much guilt weighing down on you. As she watched her team, her _friends_ , struggle with it, Shaw felt, not for the first time, relieved that she couldn't feel hers as acutely. It was there though. A dull throb, eating away at her stomach. Now that she had learned how to listen for it, she knew it was there. And she was getting better at that, at listening for these feelings she had been so sure for the longest time that she didn't have.

Sometimes, if not most of the time, she hated it. When they crept up on her when she least expected it, she couldn't stand it. That was how it was with Root most of the time. A mixture, a _swell,_ of emotions that Shaw couldn't interpret and didn't know what to do with. But she had gotten good at tempering them down as needed, ignoring them as if they didn't exist. But it was exhausting and she didn't know how people managed it, having all these feelings at full volume, when she could barely handle them as they whispered and mocked from afar.

She was tired of it, of pretending they didn't exist, of trying to ignore something that seemed to be coming easier to her day after day.

She didn't think she would ever quite reach Reese's level of guilt, or Root's unwavering faith, Harold's capacity to care and value all life. But she wasn't as uncaring, as _inhumane_ , as Samaritan had been and, she thought, maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. That she could stand on the side-lines and be the voice of reason, of cold hard logic, as the others let their hot emotions overwhelm them.

Beside her, Reese sighed. "Fine," he muttered and got up from his seat. Shaw wasn't sure what had made him decide, what sort of internal battle he had just had with himself, but was glad he was no longer brooding next to her all the same.

Shaw went back to flicking through her magazine, only sparing Leon the briefest of glances when he took the seat next to her.

"Finch and tall, dark and thinks _he's_ the billionaire are having a talk," Leon explained.

Shaw ignored him but did allow herself a small smirk when she saw his bandaged hand.

"What are you reading?"

"You ever been stabbed with a pen before?" Shaw asked, leaning forward to pull one out of the compartment in the seat in front.

Leon gulped audibly and clutched his bandaged hand to his chest. "No, just forks."

"Keep making small talk and you'll experience what it's like first hand," Shaw threatened.

"You know," Leon muttered darkly, "Finch does _not_ pay me enough for this."

"You want to avoid work related fork stabbings," said Shaw, "get a desk job."

She clutched the pen tighter in her hand when Leon opened his mouth to say something. But he quickly snapped it shut, practically jumping out of his seat and scurrying down the aisle. Shaw smirked to herself and used the pen to doodle absently on her magazine.

It was the scent of her perfume that Shaw noticed first, familiar and comforting, and she glanced at Root in surprise as she slid into the vacant seat.

"Leon wanted to switch," Root explained. "Something about a pen..." She smirked, eying the pen still clutched tightly in Shaw's hand. Shaw found herself smiling back, feeling warmth spread throughout her chest that Root wasn't giving her the cold shoulder.

"So, uh," said Shaw lamely, "how are you?"

"Since you saw me in the bathroom ten minutes ago?" Root said wryly and Shaw got the distinct feeling she was being mocked.

"That's not what I meant," Shaw said, fighting to control her annoyance both at Root for being so flippant and at herself for being so rubbish at this.

"It’s okay, Shaw," said Root, that serious edge back to her voice, "you don't have to make small talk."

"I want to," Shaw lied. Small talk was boring and redundant, but she liked listening to Root talk, even if most of the time she pretended otherwise. Sure, most of what she spouted was inane drivel, but Shaw had gotten used to tuning that out, turning it into a white noise that she found almost comforting.

Root shot her a sceptical look and didn't say anything. After a moment, she stared out of the window, seemingly fascinated by the dark clouds swirling beneath them and blocking the view of the ground. Shaw felt that urge to reach out to her again and she dropped her gaze, eyes landing on Root's hands as they rested on her lap. She was still wearing the wedding ring and Shaw wondered, if she reached out and touched it, would it feel cool against her fingertips or warm from Root's body heat?

Shaw looked away, feeling that swell again and looked down at her own hands. She was still wearing her ring too. She had almost forgotten about it and it no longer felt heavy, like it was wearing her down.

"Root," she began, voice low and serious and sounding unrecognisable to her own ears because she couldn't keep these new _emotions_ out of it, no matter how hard she tried. "I-"

"Don't," said Root. "Whatever you're about to say, can it wait? Until we're back in New York, at least."

Shaw nodded, clearing her throat and wondering what Root was expecting her to say. "Okay," she said. "If you want."

Shaw was expecting them to descend into awkward silence and was surprised when they didn't, when it felt comfortable and natural for them to be sitting there, enjoying each other’s company.

*

Even though it had been several weeks since they had destroyed Samaritan, since Shaw had stopped being Sam the make-up girl with the criminal side-life, she still couldn't get settled back into her life. She had wanted to ditch her old cover identity's apartment right away, but couldn't seem to find somewhere else that suited her, so she was stuck there for the moment, staring at walls that should have felt familiar but didn’t.

They were still using the secret subway station as their base of operations and that too seemed wrong somehow, now that the Samaritan threat was over. Finch didn't look right sitting in a subway car, surrounded by computers. She would always associate him with books and wondered if they would ever go back to the library. But right now, Finch seemed settled where he was and Shaw decided to just go with it, meeting him in his subway car when he called.

"We got a new number?" Shaw asked and smirked when Finch jumped.

"I'm really considering buying you a bell," he said, frowning slightly as Shaw leaned casually against the open door way. "And no, not exactly."

Shaw raised an eyebrow, wondering what he meant and heard the sound of heels clattering on the floor behind her.

"Or perhaps a pair of noisy heels," Finch added as Root approached them.

"What?" said Root, staring between them both in confusion.

"Harold doesn't like me sneaking up on him," Shaw explained.

"Oh," said Root and didn't say anything else. Shaw hadn't seen her for a few days and the lack of sleep was even more noticeable.

"I'm glad you are both here," said Harold, looking like he hadn't expected either of them to turn up. If Shaw were honest, she was surprised that Root had. She had the distinct impression then that this was some sort of ambush and didn't like it.

"What’s going on, Finch?" Shaw asked. She wasn't in the mood for anymore bullshit and her tone made that clear. She was still annoyed about what he had done, but was willing to continue working with him nonetheless.

Harold looked at them both uneasily for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "My endeavours in Las Vegas," he began, avoiding both their eyes, "regardless of my motives, the two of you..." Here Harold paused, his cheeks turning pink.

"Got drunkenly married in Vegas as a result?" said Shaw flatly, feeling Root stiffen beside her. "What’s your point Harold?"

"My point, Ms. Shaw," said Harold, "is that I feel somewhat responsible for it."

Shaw wished it was that easy, to pass the blame onto him, but she found that she couldn't. It was all her fault, this mess that her life now seemed to be in. Hers and Root’s.

"So I took the liberty of making some enquires," said Harold, reaching over to his desk and picking something up.

"Enquiries?" said Shaw, feeling her stomach drop when Finch held out a business card and Root took it, looking like she knew what it was.

"Yes," said Harold. "Philip Shapiro, the best divorce lawyer in town. He’s expecting your call, if you would like to set up an appointment."

Shaw's throat felt like something had lodged in it and she stared at Harold blankly for what felt like the longest time. Eventually, he cleared his throat and excused himself, squeezing between them to exit the subway car. Root moved out of his way, but Shaw was still frozen in place, staring at the spot where he had been.

"I'll call them," said Root, "if you want."

"Wait. What?" said Shaw, shaking her head. "That's it?"

"Isn't this what you want?" said Root. There was a sharpness to her tone that seemed to cut at Shaw like knives.

"I don't-" said Shaw, struggling to speak and knowing that she had to be careful, that if she worded this wrong, said something stupid, then Root really would be gone for good. Then, more firmly, she added, "I don't."

Root frowned at her, fiddling with the card in between her fingers. Her wedding ring shone bright under the fluorescent lights of the subway car.

"You’re still wearing it," said Shaw.

"What?"

"Your... ring," Shaw explained and couldn’t bring herself to say the word “wedding”.

Root shrugged. "You're still wearing yours."

Shaw stared down at her own hand, resisting the urge to twist the damn thing. She had considered taking it off upon returning home, but the thought of removing it had left her feeling cold. It felt like she would be cutting off her last tether to Root and she couldn't make herself to do it.

"Yeah," Shaw breathed out.

"Why?" Root asked, still with the hard tone, like she was angry Shaw had dared to keep it on.

Shaw shrugged. "It reminded me of you," she muttered and glanced up a few moments later to find Root frowning at her. "What?"

"What's that even supposed to mean?" Root asked, shaking her head in disbelief. "You didn't want this. You've made that perfectly clear."

Shaw bit the inside of her cheek, remembering how much of an ass she had been the morning after and wasn't really all that surprised by Root's anger.

"I was the one that got us into this," Shaw said quietly.

"Your drunken proposal doesn't exactly say a lot, Shaw," Root snapped and moved to storm past her. Shaw wanted to reach out and stop her, but didn't think brute force would do anything to convince her right now.

"I already made my decision," said Shaw. "About us," she added and Root stopped in her tracks. "That night, before we went to dinner, I had already made my decision."

Root turned to face her and Shaw felt her heart sink at the watery sheen to her eyes, once again caused by her.

"Then why didn't you say anything?"

Shaw shrugged, looking down at her feet. "I didn't want you to think I'd rushed into it or that I was just saying it because you were..."

Shaw closed her eyes, remembering Root in her red dress, their little tryst in the bathroom. Root had been so adamant about her no touching rule and Shaw had known then, despite already being drunk, the drugs starting to kick in, she knew that Root would have thought she was just saying it to get into her pants.

"I wanted you to know that I'd thought it through," Shaw said and looked up to find Root crying softly. She wanted to reach out and wipe the tears away but didn't think Root would let her.

"Shaw, what are you-"

Moving towards her, Shaw took the business card out of Root's hand and tore it in two.

"Marriage can't be too bad," Shaw mumbled, "my parents made it work."

She remembered then, before her father died, she remembered how happy they had both looked. She remembered the stories her mother used to tell her after the accident about how they met, the restaurant her father took her to in New York on their first date, all said with a small smile on her face. They had lived for each other. Sameen had been too young to understand or care, but Shaw could see it now.

"Shaw," said Root carefully, still wary, "are you sure?"

Shaw nodded, remembering something else from that night, the bike and the alleyway, Root desperately asking her if she was sure. Shaw had been sure then, despite being drunk and drugged, just as she was sure now.

"Let's just not be one of those boring married couples that never have sex," she said, scrunching her nose up in disgust at the thought. It earned her a small chuckle that warmed Shaw's heart with something she thought might be hope.

"Oh," said Root, wiping her eyes dry, "I can guarantee you that, Mrs Groves."

Shaw scowled as she moved towards Root. "No way am I taking your stupid ass name. _You_ don’t even use your stupid ass name."

"Yes, dear," said Root, bringing their lips together.

"And no stupid nicknames," said Shaw, pulling away. Root's pout lost its battle with the smirk on her face and Shaw rolled her eyes as she led them out of the hideout.

"But I was looking _so_ forward to calling you honeybun at parties," said Root gleefully.

"I hate you," Shaw muttered darkly.

"I love you too, sweetums," said Root, leaning over to give Shaw a quick peck on the cheek. "By the way," Root added, "we're getting dog."

Shaw paused. "What makes you think you get to be the boss in this thing? No way in hell are you the boss. I've seen your poor decision making skills. But, yeah..." she added as they started walking again, "we're getting a dog."

*

"I give it until the end of the month before they kill each other," said Reese, watching the newlyweds as they continued to bicker lightly on their way out.

"I don't know, Mr Reese," said Finch with a small smile. "I think they might just make it work."


	9. Epilogue

_6 Weeks Later…_

Getting cornered in an alleyway with a drug dealer pointing a gun at her wasn’t exactly how Root had planned her morning going. She had intended on spending it in bed, naked, with her wife, and was more than a little annoyed that her significant other (well, _one_ of them) had gotten called out to deal with a number at the ungodly hour of five thirty in the morning.

She blamed the early hour on the fact that she had only armed herself with a taser. Which, although it was her modus operandi on most days, wasn’t really all that great when a drug dealer had a gun levelled at your head and you couldn’t get close enough to use said taser without having your brains blown out.

Root really wasn’t a morning person and it showed when she couldn’t muster up the energy to banter her way out of this one and throw the guy off.

“Stupid bitch,” he muttered when he realised he had her trapped and smirked. Root rolled her eyes because _really_? He couldn’t come up with a better insult?

The Machine whispered in her ear and Root smiled widely.

“Why are you grinning, bitch?” he said angrily, looking unnerved for once and the gun dropped slightly, now aimed at her left shoulder instead of her head.

“Behind you,” said Root, the grin on her face only getting wider when she saw someone approach out of the shadows behind him.

The guy turned, not quick enough to dodge the lead pipe aimed at his head.

“Hey, asshat,” said Shaw, swinging the pipe and hitting her target. “Get the hell away from my wife.”

The drug dealer dropped to the ground with a heavy thump, the gun flying out of his hand and skittering across the ground, stopping near Root’s feet. She bent down and picked it up, stripping it down quickly without having to look, just like Shaw had shown her.

Shaw tossed the pipe aside, glaring at the unconscious dealer. “You okay?” she asked. “Why are you grinning? That guy almost shot you.”

“Because,” said Root, moving towards her and dropping the pieces of the dealer’s gun to the ground so she could grab Shaw by the hips. “You called me your wife.”

“No, I didn’t,” said Shaw as Root pressed their lips together.

“You kinda did,” said Root, pulling away and slipping her hand into Shaw’s pocket where she knew she had placed several zip ties that morning.

“I did?” said Shaw, watching as Root tied the dealer up and left him for Fusco to deal with.

“Uh-huh,” said Root, still grinning and enjoying Shaw’s dumfounded look.

“Oh,” said Shaw. “Right.”

“It’s the first time, you know,” said Root, taking her by the arm and guiding her back out onto the street.

“So?” Shaw grumbled. “It’s not like it’s a big deal or anything.”

“Kind of a big deal,” Root disagreed. “We should celebrate.”

Shaw rolled her eyes but Root could tell it was just for show.

“What did you have in mind?” Shaw asked, feigning disinterest.

Root grinned and leaned down to whisper something in Shaw’s ear and smirked when Shaw swallowed thickly, her eyes widening either with surprise or arousal, Root couldn’t tell. She pulled away and grinned, her tongue creeping out between her teeth when Shaw shot her a frustrated look as she moved out of her reach.

“Fine,” said Shaw and the faux grumpiness was back. “But could you maybe tell the Machine to cool it with the numbers? I’d hate to be interrupted this time.”

“Awh, my poor, sexually frustrated wife,” Root mocked, wrapping an arm around Shaw’s waist and nuzzling at her neck.

Shaw growled. “Don’t pretend you aren’t as frustrated.”

Root shrugged. Okay, so she would be lying if she said that she wasn’t. It had been a while and they were both feeling it. But the Machine couldn’t give her a reassurance. Something could come up at the last minute, it always did. It just came with the life that they both led. They took what moments they could when they came and, somehow – and probably to the surprise of them both and everyone else – they made it work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic was intended to be nothing but crack and stemmed from a conversation between me, Shadowkira and mlamachine about how hilarious it would be if Root and Shaw got drunkenly married in Vegas. This turned out more angsty than I had wanted though, but I think it's still a fun ride.  
> I have a sequel planned (actually I have two) because my brain never stops. However, it will be a while since I'm gonna focus on other projects first.  
> Anyway thanks for reading! I hope you all enjoyed it.


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